


A Greater Purpose

by CelestialSeaWitch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arthurian, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fairies, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, NSFW, Past Lives, Romance, Smut, Vikings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:35:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27305668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialSeaWitch/pseuds/CelestialSeaWitch
Summary: Unexpected magical marriages, creatures of an unknown origin, and amulets with mystical powers. The war has gone on longer than anyone expected and it's only getting crazier as time passes. Hermione and Thorfinn find themselves with only enemies at their backs as both the Order and the Death Eaters chase them. Together they will learn about an ancient magic and truth of the world.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Thorfinn Rowle
Comments: 34
Kudos: 109





	1. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: sex, torture, death, underage death, mentions of rape, and mentions of underage sex. There are also mentions of threesomes and other fun sexy times. If any of this is not your cup of tea, I don't recommend you read this story. Otherwise, you've been warned!
> 
> Going through and editing the chapters but it's pretty slow goings. New banner and cover art! Enjoy xx

# 

#  Chapter One

~ April 3, 2004 ~

“Oi! Stop that witch!”

Hermione raced past the dirty, hunched figures that filled Knockturn Alley. She clutched the little brown package to her chest. Her grip was unrelenting. She’d got it. She’d actually got it.

“Granger!”

Hermione cursed under her breath. She'd kept her hood low over her head, but something had clearly given her away. The thunderous steps of the wizard chasing after her echoed across the alley.

No one stopped her. No one even looked in her direction. She could be murdered in the middle of Knockturn Alley and no one would even bat an eye. Since the Dark Lord’s rise six years ago, places of dark magic had only gotten darker. It was one of the main reasons the Order had shot down her mission. Going into Knockturn Alley was too dangerous. There were too many liabilities and the payout was too small.

_ “You don’t even know what it bloody well is!” Ron shouted over the table at her. His cheeks were red and spittle flew from his mouth. _

_ “It’s important to Riddle! It could be a Horcrux!” she insisted fiercely. _

_ “Does he even have any more of those?” Ron scoffed. “If it’s so bloody important, he’d have an army goin’ in to collect it and not one measly Death Eater! Face it! You just want to go out and snog your stupid Death Eater!”  _

_ “That’s hardly fair!” Hermione shouted back. Her hair crackled and the coils of her curls tightened with magic. “He has nothing to do with this! And I didn’t ask for what happened! You know that. Don’t you dare hold it over my head like that, Ronald Weasley.”  _

_ Ron glared, his eyes nearly glowed with impotent rage. _

_ “Enough!” Kingsley shouted. “It’s too high of a risk, Hermione. We’ll let you know if we hear anything about the object.” _

_ “It’ll be too late by then!” _

_ “It’s been decided!” the wizard snapped. He let out a harsh breath, slowly releasing the tension from his shoulders. “Don’t you have research or something you can work on? Let us stick to the fieldwork, yeah?” _

The Order was going to be furious when they found out she’d gone and stolen the item in transit herself. Then they would also be impressed and hopefully, take her back off the bloody bench. Her last mission had been months ago and it had gone to complete and utter shit. She would bear the consequences of that mission for the rest of her life. 

The only thing to lessen the brunt of her own actions was helping the Order. As good as she was with books, she knew she was best when using her intelligence in the field. But first, Hermione had to get back to Order Headquarters and to do that she’d have to outsmart the wizard biting at her heels.

Hermione turned the corner and flew through a door leading into the back of an apothecary. She quickly warded the door. A second later, someone was pounding against the wood. 

“Open up, Granger!”

Hermione glared at the wood. How did he know it was her?

“There’s nowhere to go,” he thundered. Hermione spun around and her eyes tracked over the empty storeroom. “The apothecary shut down,” he explained as Hermione belatedly came to the same conclusion. “The only other exit is completely warded off. Give me the package and I’ll let you go.” His voice went soft towards the end. She knew he was telling the truth.

Hermione narrowed her eyes on the door. She wasn’t giving him the damn packaged. She checked the only other exit and sure enough, it was heavily warded. Her pursuer would surely get in before she could break through. 

She threw back her hood and cursed as she wound a hand into her wild curls. Her eyes caught on a leftover stash of potions and her mind raced. 

“Hermione,” the Death Eater on the other side of the door ground out slowly. “You can’t stay there forever. Open up. Do  _ not _ make me open this door myself.”

Hermione dropped to her knees and quickly sifted through the box of old potions. She paused when she saw a very specific-looking one with a mother-of-pearl sheen to it. Amortentia. Hermione smirked. She waved her wand over the bottle and less than a minute later, she was holding two identical-looking packages. She slipped the real one into her right pocket.

The ward she’d placed on the door was about to break. Before it completely shattered, Hermione waved her wand and threw the door open. Black robes greeted her. She looked up, straining her neck to see up into the face of the very tall, very irate dark wizard on the other side of the threshold. Thorfinn Rowle.

He narrowed his bright blue eyes at her. “What the hell do you think you’re up to, sweetheart?”

Hermione’s lips twisted into a snarl. “Trying to win a bloody war, what do you think?”

“Trying to piss me off?” 

She rolled her eyes. Thorfinn stepped closer and right into her personal space. He was massive. His frame completely dwarfed her own like it had when they were in school. She had grown since their final year together when she was a fourth-year, but he had grown as well. He’d also grown in muscle mass and the fact was not lost on her. 

“Hand over the package, little witch.”

Hermione made a pained expression. “Thor, please.”

One of his hands raised to twist into the curls at the back of her skull. He pulled her head back so their gazes met. Thorfinn leaned close and his breath ghosted over her lips. Hermione shivered and her lashes fluttered. 

“Don’t make me ask again,” he whispered darkly.

Hermione’s heart raced inside her chest. If asked, she couldn’t confidently say that it was entirely from fear. She swallowed. Her hand dipped into her left pocket and she slipped out the transfigured, brown paper parcel. She placed it in his open and waiting palm.

Hermione clutched his wrist when he moved to pull away. “Don’t,” she whispered frantically. “Don’t give that to him, not under any circumstances.” He stared deeply into her light brown eyes as they watered. “Please.”

Thorfinn’s hand moved from her hair to slowly cup the side of her face. His hands were so large that his fingers were still threaded through her curls even as his thumb trailed along her plump bottom lip. 

“Apparate away,” he ordered, his voice was low and gruff as he did. “Before… before I change my mind.”

He stared at her for a moment longer before he stepped back. Hermione crossed over the threshold and back onto the street. She gave Thorfinn a long, pleading look before she turned on her heel and disapparated with a loud  _ crack! _

* * *

Thorfinn gasped for breath as the Dark Lord finally let up the cruciatus. The massive wizard twisted over onto his stomach, despite the pain in his broken ribs. He gagged onto the cold black tile of Malfoy Manor. His entire body shook as his muscles seized. 

The sweet scent of lilacs, sugared apples, and petrichor teased him. The bottle of Amortentia lay broken and forgotten not far from him.

“Who?” Voldemort hissed in question. His temper filled the room with an arctic chill. The windows had fogged over and frost coated the edges. “Who did you give it to?”

Thorfinn shook his head. “No one, my Lord. I gave it to no one. The package I received for you is that one.”

“Lies!” He raised his wand and Thorfinn screamed as another  crucio hit him square in the back. The Dark Lord cut it off quicker than the last. “Tell me what really happened, Rowle. I will kill you faster if you do.” 

Thorfinn sucked in a laboured breath. He closed his eyes as black spots began to cloud his vision. He said nothing. Voldemort raised his wand again when a door opened. A shaking, rat-faced man was led in by Rodolphus Lestrange.

“A witness, my Lord.” He bowed his head before throwing the whimpering wizard at the Dark Lord’s feet.

“A witness?” Voldemort hissed in irritation. He slanted a dark look at Thorfinn who had opened his eyes and warily stared at the new addition to his interrogation. “Explain.”

The man jumped and nodded. “I been seein’ him, sir,” he pointed to Thorfinn, “in the Alley today. He was with his little lady friend.”

Voldemort raised a nonexistent eyebrow. “Lady friend?” 

He glanced back at Thorfinn just in time to catch as the wizard closed his eyes and let his forehead drop to the cool tile. Voldemort’s rage skyrocketed at the sight. He spun back toward the dirty witness at his feet and flicked his wand. 

With a whispered, “ _ Legilimens _ ,” he plowed his way through the street urchin’s mind. 

He found the man’s memory of early that day. Thorfinn stood in the entryway of some back entrance with a hand buried in a little witch’s curls. They were leaning towards each other, nearly embracing. The wizard’s thumb slowly caressed the witch’s lip.

Voldemort pulled himself out of the wizard’s mind so forcefully that the man collapsed. The street urchin’s eyes were glazed, his mouth partially open. He was dead.

The Dark Lord spun toward Thorfinn, his black robes billowed out as he did.  “Hermione Granger?” Voldemort hissed calmly.  The room’s temperature had dropped another five degrees. He stalked closer toward his prey. “Potter’s little mudblood?” 

He could see Thorfinn’s breath beginning to race. Voldemort nearly vibrated with rage. He flicked his wand and Thorfinn was thrown onto his back. The blonde wizard cried out at the pain from his broken bones. 

“Have you betrayed me, Rowle? For a filthy mudblood?”

“Never, my Lord,” Thorfinn gasped out. 

Voldemort’s lip curled. His fingers grasped the blond wizard’s chin and forced him to meet his master’s eyes. Voldemort didn’t even bother to whisper the spell as he dove into the man’s mind. He tore through it without a care or thought for Thorfinn’s pain as the younger wizard screamed. Voldemort’s grip on his face was unrelenting as he searched like a bloodhound for his answers.

Finally, after what felt like hours but had in fact been mere seconds, Voldemort found the memories he was looking for. The little mudblood smiled up at him in the glowing memory, warm and golden. It was tinged with stupid, sappy emotions. She laughed prettily and Voldemort sneered.

He quickly noted the location of the memory and his interest doubled. The potions lab three months ago. The Order had attacked it and certain experimental potions had been released into the atmosphere. He’d been told the potions had no effect. He’d been told this by Thorfinn himself who had been exposed -- him and the mudblood.

Voldemort narrowed his focus on the memories of that night. He’d been lied to -- played for a fool. Hermione Granger giggled as the memory of her stripped bare. Her cheeks were flushed and curls in wild disarray. She moaned beneath him, her body moving against his own. A hot warmth suffused from his chest. Their skin glowed wherever they touched as the bonds formed between the two -- forever binding. She screamed as she came and Voldemort quickly pulled back from the memory before he became absorbed once more.

He slowly rose to his feet, breathing heavily. “ _ She’d be dead _ ,” he slowly hissed as he stared out into the middle distance. “That’s what you told me when you returned from the potions lab in Kent. You said that the potions we’d been making there had done nothing when released into the atmosphere.” 

He spun around and headed towards his tall black chair at the top of the dais. He sat regally on his throne. Red eyes stared down at the broken, shivering wizard below him. “You said  _ If they had worked, she’d be dead because there is nothing else I desire more _ ,” Voldemort smirked and rolled his eyes. “Clearly you lied.”

Thorfinn opened his mouth. He gasped and coughed, but no words came forward. 

“How long have you been protecting your mudblood, Rowle? How long have you been protecting the Order?” He was deceptively calm as he asked his questions. “Such a shame they give no care for your own protection, sending you here with  _ that _ potion. Your witch was trying to get you killed, Rowle. She’s a heartless little bitch.” He paused as he considered this. “Perhaps I should have recruited  _ her _ into my ranks instead.” 

Voldemort leaned forward. He steepled his fingers together and leaned his elbows on his knees. “Either way, I’m certainly going to go pay your pretty little wife a visit once you’re dead.” He raised an eyebrow and smirked. “To give her my… condolences.” 

Thorfinn gasped, the sound wet. Blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth. “My Lord… please.”

Voldemort stood and rolled his eyes. “Spare me.” He waved his hand for his Death Eaters to take Rowle away. They would see to the traitor’s torture. Voldemort had a mudblood to find.

* * *

_ Hermione laughed as she danced and spun. The grass tickled the soles of her bare feet. Her skirts spun and twirled around her ankles. The bonfire roared at the centre of the circle. The witches danced and spun to the beat of the drums.  _

_ The full moon shone down upon them. Magic tingled along her skin. It sang within her blood and made her feel alive. The entire clearing was filled with the power of the solstice. _

_ Hermione spun and spun again as the beat of the drums increased. The world blurred around her. Magic rose up from the ground and danced across her fingertips. The light spring breeze swept through the glen. The fire flickered and roared. _

_ Hermione came to a stop as more dancers joined. She noticed the men drinking from their tankards, watching the witches dance for the gods. Her gaze turned to the door of the largest longhouse in their fief. The men had returned to the festivities, but their leader was still missing. _

_ Without another thought, Hermione left the dance and slipped through the crowd. She passed by the gold and red banner of their fief as she entered the longhouse. A smouldering fire sat within the centre of the building. Surrounding it on three sides were three long tables. There were near to thirty chairs in total, each of them similar to one another in fashion. There was no differentiation in station or power. Each and every man was equal. Their chief wouldn’t have it any other way. _

_ Hermione smiled across the fire to where their chief sat at the other end of the longhouse.  _

_ “ _ _ Husband,” she greeted softly as she stepped up onto the platform under the tables. She walked along the length of the longhouse as she slowly made her way to the man. _

_ “Wife,” he responded in the same tone of voice. A smile could be seen under his blond beard. His long hair was partially pulled back and plaited with multiple braids.  _

_ “You’re missing out on the festivities,” she pointed out as she rounded the corner of the table. The one her husband sat at was the shorter of the three. Only the chief’s family were allowed to sit at the smallest table that spanned the width of the longhouse. Two chairs sat there. Hermione longed for there to be a third. _

_ Her husband leaned an elbow onto the arm of his chair. He rested his chin in his hand as he smirked at her. “It appears I am. Are you here to rectify that problem for me, my love?” _

_ Hermione smiled mischievously. She leaned back against the table for a moment before slipping up to sit on it. She slid sideways and dragged her skirt up to her thighs as she settled a leg on either side of him. “What if I am?” _

_ His hands cupped her calves. He covered nearly the entire length of them, due to both her short stature and his incredible size. He was not a small man, her husband. Hermione was certain he was the largest man she’d ever seen -- and Vikings did not often come in small packaging.  _

_ “Have you danced tonight, my sweet?” His long, calloused fingers traced up her calves to the back of her knees. He leisurely made his way to the tops of her thighs, pushing her skirts further up as he went. _

_ “I have,” Hermione replied breathlessly.  _

_ Her husband wrapped his arms around her hips and effortlessly picked her up. He placed her on his lap, staring into her eyes as if he were seeing straight into the beauty of her magical core. “Then let the gods bless us this Beltane.” _

_ Hermione smiled beautifully. She pressed her forehead against his and traced his lips with her fingers. “Blessed be,” she whispered. _

_ “Blessed be.” _

* * *

It was beautiful. That was what Hermione’s first thought had been when she’d opened the package and saw what was safely tucked away within. It was a massive piece of raw azurite. The blue looked purer than even the most vibrant oceans. Its centre was its darkest, the sparkling stone slowly turned lighter towards its edges. It looked like the night sky when she twisted it under the light of her room. 

It was mesmerizing. It was raw magic. It definitely was not a Horcrux.

There was a dark piece of twine wrapped intricately around it in a series of little knots. It looped along the sides and the back of the stone and knotted at the very top before giving way to a long loop to form a necklace. A magical pendant of some sort?

It could be dark magic. Knowing Hermione’s luck, it probably was dark magic. The young witch really wished she had thought of that before she’d put the stupid thing on. Rookie mistake, she thought to herself bitterly.  _ Constant vigilance! _ Poor old Mad-Eye was probably cursing her from the grave.

She deserved to be cursed. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. And now, she couldn’t get the stupid thing off and she also couldn’t find any information on it. Her room was filled with books on azurite, amulets, and magical pendants. There was nothing. Not that she could find at least.

Hermione sat at her vanity and softly touched the pendant, staring at it as it hung around her neck in the reflection of the circular mirror. 

Merlin, she hoped Thorfinn was okay. 

Her eyes teared and she turned away from the mirror. It’d been rather difficult to look into her own eyes after her betrayal of him. She hoped he’d heeded her advice and hadn't given Voldemort the package. As much as she wished she could see the look on the Dark Lord’s face when he opened the package and found a bottle of  _ amortentia _ of all things, she hated to think Thorfinn would bear the brunt of that anger.

“Hermione, love?” her mother’s voice called through the door as she softly knocked.

Hermione quickly dropped the pendant beneath her shirt and wiped her cheeks of any stray tears. “Come in!” She spun around in her seat and smiled up at her mother as the older woman opened the door.

Helena glanced around Hermione’s messy room with an amused look on her face. “Aren’t you supposed to be heading off soon?”

Hermione nodded. “I’ll just take a minute to clean.” She wriggled her fingers. “Magic.”

Helena smiled indulgently. “Of course, I always forget. Well, hurry on up. I don’t want your friends getting worried about you, not when they don’t know where you are.” Her mother raised an eyebrow pointedly. 

It was a point of contention between Hermione and her parents that after she had moved them for their safety, she had refused to divulge their location to anyone. They had grown used to Ron and Harry coming around after the three had graduated, but that all stopped when the threat had been made on her parents' lives. Hermione refused to apologize for it. The fewer people who knew where her parents were, the safer they would be.

“I’ll be down in a minute to say goodbye.”

Helena stepped into the room. She gently cupped the side of her daughter’s face. “Twenty-three,” Helena sighed. “You should be off getting your master’s degree just about now.”

Hermione looked down. “This isn’t exactly how I imagined my life either, mum.”

“No, I know that, darling. Just… just promise me something?” Hermione looked up at her mother and raised her eyebrows. “If things ever get bad… if you think you need me, please just come home.”

Hermione was already shaking her head before her mother finished her request. “You know I can’t do that, mum. It’s dangerous. You could-”

“-I nearly died bringing you into this world, Hermione,” Helena cut her off, not unkindly. “I am willing to risk my life to keep you in it. You’ve put that charm on this house and we’re safe here. No one knows about it or us. You would be safe here too. Just… if you need me, baby. I’m here.”

Hermione smiled sadly. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and nodded. “Okay.”

“Good. Now clean up, don’t you dare leave this room a mess.”

She laughed wetly at her mother’s comment and nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” 

Helena smiled and winked at her before leaving her daughter to pack. Hermione took a long breath to compose herself before she waved her wand and watched as all her things flew into her purse. She picked up the beaded bag and crossed the strap over her shoulder. 

Hermione trotted down the steps and smiled at her parents. Hugs and kisses all around, she promised them she’d stay safe and be back again soon. “If not, I’ll send an owl, as always.” 

“Good luck, love,” Hugo wished his daughter, “on whatever it is you’ve been working so intently on the past few days.”

Hermione kissed her dad on the cheek. “Thanks, dad. Love you!” she called over her shoulder as she headed out.

“Love you!” they chorused after her. Hugo and Helena stayed on the front steps and waved until Hermione was out of sight. The curly-haired witch continued walking, putting more distance between herself and her parents’ new home.

She turned the corner at the end of the block and walked straight into a wall of muscle. The man hissed in pain. Hermione gasped and jumped back, her hand already on her wand. 

Her eyes widened when she saw who it was. “Thor?”

He looked like crap. His right eye was swollen shut, his nose was broken and he was cradling his left arm. His bleeding lips quirked into a little half grin and he greeted her with a gruff, “Hey, sweetheart.”

Hermione let out a pained sound. She wrapped an arm around his back and her other to his stomach. He hissed. She quickly pulled her hand away to find it stained red. “Shit.”

“Gonna be needin’ that necklace now, beautiful.” He grunted and leaned heavily onto her shoulder. 

“You need a bloody healer, Thor. Jesus Christ.” 

Hermione looked around, but no one paid them any mind. The faint tingle along her skin alerted her to the use of his weak muggle repelling charm. She needed to get him out of here. They were way too close to her parents' hideout for her comfort, not to mention the fact she thought he might be dying. 

“Can you handle a side-along?”

He grunted. 

Hermione took that as confirmation and shuffled him around the corner. “Anyone else with you? Follow you?” 

Thorfinn shook his head. He was limping and leaning far too much weight on her. Hermione’s shoulders hunched and she pushed herself to support his broken body until they finally made it to the apparition point.

“Ready?” she whispered when they were safely tucked away inside the apparition point.

“Make it quick,” he grumbled. His head dropped forward and he spat blood to the side. 

Hermione grimaced. She kept her arm wrapped tightly around his waist and raised her free hand to grab his own that was draped over her shoulder. She closed her eyes and a moment later, she apparated away.

Thorfinn screamed when they landed. He fell down onto one knee, dragging Hermione down with him. She cursed and tried to keep him from fully collapsing. 

“Okay, babe,” she murmured soothingly, “I got you. Come on.” She pulled him to his feet, ignoring his cry of pain. “Just around the corner.”

They hobbled around the side of a muggle building. There was a parking lot to the left before a row of blue doors set into a brick building. Hermione led him to the closest door and waved her wand. It opened and she led him inside the motel room.

The room was small, just big enough for a double bed, dresser, and a door leading to a washroom. An old tele sat atop the dresser, though it didn’t look like it was in working order.

Hermione helped Thorfinn to the bed before she closed the door and heavily warded it. No muggle would come looking, they would forget there was a room there entirely until she could get away to pay for the damn thing at the front desk. But she wouldn’t do that until she knew Thorfinn was okay -- she  _ couldn’t _ do it until she knew he was okay.

Hermione waved her wand, biting down her panic as she assessed the damage. His arm was broken in two places, his hand in three. She quickly mended the arm first. 

“Fuck!” Thorfinn shouted when the bones snapped into place.

Hermione ignored the swear, knowing that Thorfinn swore like a sailor on any random day, especially so when he was in pain. She opened her purse and pulled out a bottle of bourbon. 

She unscrewed the cap and handed it over. “Drink, there’s more to come.”

Thorfinn narrowed his one good eye at the unfamiliar alcohol before tipping it back and taking a long gulp. He breathed deeply and grunted.  “Fuck, that’s good shit.” He hissed when she mended the breaks in his hand. He twisted his wrist experimentally, flexing his fingers as he did. 

“It’s muggle,” Hermione explained as she turned his jaw to better inspect his broken nose. She waved her wand and his nose slid back into place before mending. She began working on his eye next and shot some spells at it that would reduce the swelling.

“I didn’t come here for a nurse,” Thorfinn told her darkly. 

Hermione stilled, her wand poised over the broken clavicle she’d just found. Her eyes flickered up to his own. “I can’t just let you bleed out.”

He leaned close to her face as he growled, “Then maybe you shouldn’t have thrown me to the bloody wolves.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. Her expression became pinched. “I wasn’t the one that made you sign up with that monster. In fact, I’m fairly positive I begged you not to.” Thorfinn’s jaw clenched and he looked away. “Do you want my help or not?”

Thorfinn grunted and gave a jerky nod. 

She sighed at his petulance. Better than the anger, she supposed. A flick of her wand later, Thorfinn was shirtless. Hermione gasped at the state of his torso. All along his left side was dark purple, blue, and black. He clearly had a number of cracked ribs. There was blood seeping from a deep gash along the right side of his abs. 

“Lie back,” she instructed.

Thorfinn shook his head. “Can’t do that.”

“Thor-”

“- Just deal with this first.” He gestured to his front.

Hermione’s heart raced in her chest. She really didn’t want to know what had been done to his back. “It’ll hurt more,” she protested weakly.

Thorfinn’s response was to take three long gulps of bourbon. “Go,” he gritted out.

Hermione healed each broken rib with a single wave of her wand.

Thorfinn screamed between clenched teeth. The veins along his neck were visible as his entire body clenched and shook. His face had gone red. 

“Thor? Thor! Breathe, please breathe.” She grabbed his face and forced him to look at her. “Come on, babe.” Thorfinn sucked in a breath between clenched teeth. His eyes stared fiercely into her own. Her brown orbs willed him to calm back down. “That’s it. Good.” She kissed his cheek and moved onto the gash on his side.

Hermione fumbled through her purse for her essence of dittany, eventually just summoning the potion. Thorfinn was staring up at the ceiling and counting his breaths when she applied it. He hissed and looked down. The skin knitted together neatly as if it had never happened in the first place. It wasn't fully healed though. The dittany only closed the surface level of skin. It would still take a few days at least for his magic to heal him fully.

“How did you get away?” she asked quietly as she watched his skin knit itself back together. Thorfinn didn’t respond. Hermione looked up at him. “Thor?”

“Don’t ask questions I can’t answer.” At her annoyed expression, he whispered, “Please.” 

Someone had helped him escape. It annoyed her that he was protecting Death Eaters, but she supposed she should be grateful that someone was looking out for him where she couldn’t.

“Do they know?” Hermione asked to change the topic. She slathered some ointment across the wound to help the healing process. “About us?” she clarified.

Thorfinn looked down at her work as he considered her question. “They do now.”

Hermione pressed a large plaster to the wound in case the skin tore. “Now?” She raised her eyebrows. “They only just found out?”

He raised an eyebrow back. “Well, it’s not like I was going to tell them when it happened. They’d have…” He hissed when she spread the bruise paste across his ribs and side.

“They’d have…?” she prompted.

“They’d have made me… use it against you. To capture you.”

“Is that how you found me?” 

He nodded and she continued to slather the cream along his side. She swallowed. Hermione didn’t know much about marriage bonds. Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t find much either. Ministry-regulated bonds were one thing, but whatever the hell had happened between Thorfinn and Hermione was definitely not ministry-regulated. 

“Have you been keeping tabs on me?” she hesitantly questioned. 

He eyed her for a long moment. Hermione refused to meet his gaze. “I can’t, usually. Doesn’t work under fidelus charms.” She let out an obvious breath of relief. “You’ve been under house arrest?”

Hermione looked annoyed as she nodded. She glanced up at him and her lashes cast shadows across her cheekbones. “Since it happened. I told Harry and a few others and… it wasn’t great.”

He snorted. “Can’t imagine why not.”

She glared at him for his sarcasm and turned away to collect her supplies. Thorfinn looked around at all the healing equipment that had appeared out of nowhere. “You keep all of this on you?”

“I like to be prepared,” she replied simply, focused on her task. Thorfinn took a swig of bourbon to hide his obvious displeasure. She knew he hated how she was so involved in the fighting of the war. He was extremely protective of her, it was one of the reasons he'd claimed he wanted to join Voldemort. He'd told her he could protect her from within -- a fool's plan, really.

“Undetectable Extension Charms are illegal, angel.”

Hermione paused and looked up at him. “Your point?”

He eyed her as he drank more bourbon and decided not to say anything more.

Hermione went back to her task and fixed his sprained ankle. His legs had otherwise been mercifully left alone. She rose to her full height and crossed her arms. “On your stomach,” she commanded. 

Thorfinn handed her the bottle of alcohol. She took a long gulp of the burning drink before setting it on the side table. He stood up, eyeing her warily before he turned around. He winced at the choked sob she let out. The coward he was, he was glad that he couldn’t see her reaction. Thorfinn was fairly sure that if he saw her expression then, it’d ruin him. Without a word, he eased down onto the bed, pillowing his head under his hands. 

Hermione choked back another sob. He could hear her sniffles despite her best efforts. He couldn’t see it himself, but he imagined that his back was a right mess from Lucius Malfoy’s lashings. He bit his tongue on the hiss that threatened to escape after the first drop of dittany. It didn’t sting nearly as bad as getting the wounds had. The acrid smell the potion left behind filled the room. The room spun and he bit back the urge he had to vomit. 

He breathed a sigh of relief when Hermione set the bottle aside. The smell from the dittany being used disappeared a moment later. Slowly, mindful of his many injuries, he rolled onto his back. Hermione’s tearstained face came into view as she crawled across the bed toward him. 

“Sh…” he soothed when she came closer. He raised his hands to her cheeks and wiped her tears away. “Don’t cry, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed.

“It’s not your fault,” he claimed in spite of his earlier statement. He didn’t truly blame her. He couldn’t really, knowing what she was fighting for and why. He was the asshole that had joined the wrong side.

“It is!” she cried. “I told you, I told you not to give it to him. Why didn’t you listen to me? Why don’t you ever-?” He pulled her down so her face pressed into the crook of his neck. She cried as she moulded her body against his own. 

He shushed her softly. His fingers stroked her curls. Thorfinn stared up at the stained ceiling and wondered the same thing as the little witch in his arms. Why didn’t he ever just listen to her? He wanted to blame it on the fact that he was a stubborn bastard, he really did. She was always right. It bloody well burned how she was always right.

At the end of the day, it didn’t matter who was right or wrong. It mattered the decisions he had made. He had to own up to his actions. He had to live with the consequences. Thorfinn knew he wasn’t a good man. His marriage to the most radiant witch he’d ever had the pleasure of knowing had been an accident, he knew. It was the greatest accident of his life, but an accident nonetheless. He didn’t deserve her. 

He had to go back and try to destroy their world.

She had to go off and save it all. She would too, he was sure of it. 

“I need that amulet,” he whispered into the silence after she’d finally calmed down again.

Hermione shook her head. “No you don’t,” she whispered back. “Just walk away.”

“Can’t do that.”

She pulled out of his embrace and he reluctantly let her go. Hermione gave him a questioning look as she leaned over him. Her curls fell over her shoulder and brushed his own. “You really believe in him that much? A man who did…  _ this _ to his loyal followers?” She gestured to his entire body. 

He closed his eyes and sighed. “ _ Hermione _ …”

“Do you even know what it is? What he’ll do with it?” She certainly didn’t. Maybe he had a clue?

“What other options do I have?” he asked instead of answering her questions. He looked at her pleadingly. “I’m branded. I made my decision. There’s no going back from this.” He nodded toward his left arm currently curled around her hip. 

Hermione turned to look down at the Dark Mark branded across her husband’s arm. Her brows furrowed. “What if it wasn’t there? If I got rid of it?”

Thorfinn didn’t move. He didn’t even allow himself to hope. “Can you?” he questioned reasonably. There wasn’t a single ounce of emotion in his voice.

She moved her hand across her body so she could trace the outline of the mark. “I’ve been studying it since you took it.” The extensive research had eventually led her to make the DA coins in her fifth year. She looked up at him. “I can block off an area, like an estate. He won’t be able to reach you, summon you, or find you. You’d be safe.”

“And trapped.”

“Only until I get it off.”

“Which you might not even be able to do,” he reasoned. 

Hermione leaned over him, an eyebrow raised. Her leg slipped over his hip and she straddled him lightly, mindful of his injuries. “Have you ever met me?”

He smirked at her and she hated how charming she found him when he did that. “You’re still that sweet, spiteful, little swot, aren’t you?”

Hermione hummed and smiled. “Alliteration? Why, husband, if I didn’t know any better I would say you were trying to seduce me.”

“Dollface, if I were seducing you, your knickers would be wet.” He leaned his head forward, grazing his lips against hers. “Tell me, sweetheart, you wet for me?”

Hermione smiled and her eyes glittered with mischief. “You can’t even imagine how wet I’ll be if you agree to let me help you.”

Thorfinn shook his head and chuckled. “So Slytherin,” he commented approvingly. She raised an eyebrow. Thorfinn sighed before nodding. “Fine, witch. Have it your way, but only as long as you also have your way  _ with _ me too.”

Hermione laughed and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Oh, I intend to.” 

Thorfinn had enough time to smile predatorily before Hermione attacked him. Her fingers wound into his hair as she kissed him heatedly. Thorfinn moaned and rolled his hips beneath her. Merlin, he missed her. She tasted so good and the little mewls she made as he palmed her arse drove him crazy. Her curls fell around them like a curtain, bathing him in the scent of lilacs and sugared apples. Soft, fresh, and sweet.

Hermione ground herself against him and he hissed when her jeans also rubbed against one of his still-healing wounds. Hermione pulled back, her lips flushed and her eyes dazed. “Shit. Sorry-”

“-shut up,” he grunted and pulled her back down. It had been too fucking long since he’d been with her. Months since the last time. And that was the only time since his seventh year. It had been years -- bleeding  _ years _ \-- since he’d been with his witch properly. 

In a single moment, the wards came crashing down and the door flew open. Hermione gasped and sat up, her wand pointed and at the ready. Thorfinn pushed himself to sit up, his own wand pointing around her. A short, nondescript wizard leered at the two of them. 

Hermione’s brows drew together at the sight of the unknown man. Thorfinn cursed. He rolled Hermione onto her back and narrowed his eyes when a ward blocked his apparition. One look at Hermione and she knew what he’d tried and failed to do. He jumped to his feet. His mouth twisted in pain as a few of his lashings and the cut on his abdomen broke open. He kept his wand trained on the man, eyes fierce.

“Dickie,” Thorfinn greeted coldly.

“Rowle,” the man’s higher-pitched voice greeted back. He smirked. “I told you I’d get you one day.” He giggled then and Hermione shuddered.

“Who…?” she began to ask. Her eyes flickered to Thorfinn. “Thor?”

“Get your shit. We’re going.” Hermione waved her wand and everything flew back into her purse. She slipped the strap over her head and shoulder. 

Dickie giggled louder. “Too late!”

The door was filled once more and four more Death Eaters filed into the room. The Lestrange brothers and the Carrow twins lined either side of the door to allow entrance for their lord. Hermione was visibly shaking when Lord Voldemort entered the room. His red gaze swept across the room, taking in every minute detail. 

“Good boy, Dickie.” He pulled on a leash and a girl stumbled into the room. She was small and wasn’t any older than thirteen. She had a collar around her neck. Her clothes were ripped and dirty, her hair long and tangled. “You’re payment.” Voldemort tugged on the leash. The girl fell into Dickie’s excited grip.

Hermione stepped forward, her eyes blazing. 

Thorfinn grabbed the back of her shirt to stop her. Her wand sparked. 

“Thank you, thank you, my master,” Dickie reverently replied. He stroked the girl’s cheek. She cried and turned to Thorfinn and Hermione. 

Hermione made to stop what was obviously happening but Thorfinn wrapped an arm around her waist. He pulled her back. 

“Thor,” she hissed as she struggled against his grip.

“It’s too late,” he whispered. 

Just as he said it, the girl gasped. Her eyes went wide. She clutched at her throat. Her skin quickly turned pale before going grey. Her veins darkened to a wicked black. The young girl’s mouth opened in a silent scream. The blood vessels in her eyes popped as her skin began to shrivel.

Hermione pressed a hand to her mouth. 

The girl’s empty and dry body fell to the ground.

“Mmmm…” Dickie hummed in delight. “Yummy.” He rubbed his belly as if he’d just had a pork roast.

Voldemort’s red eyes watched Hermione’s revolted expression with amusement. He continued to watch her as he nodded to the door. “You’re dismissed, Dickie.”

Dickie giggled cheerfully. “Okay.” He slipped out behind Voldemort, through the door, and disappeared as quickly as he’d come.

Voldemort raised one of his nonexistent eyebrows at both of them. “Why am I not surprised to find you here with your mudblood wife?”

“I came to collect the necklace for you, my Lord,” Thorfinn responded slowly. He looked back and forth between the Lestrange brothers and the Carrow twins that bookended the Dark Lord. The anti-apparition ward was still in place. They needed to get the fuck out of that room.

“I have no doubt,” Voldemort indulged. “And where is it? My amulet?”

“I don’t have it,” Hermione explained. Quickly, she added, “but I can get it.”

Voldemort narrowed his eyes on her. He stepped over the body of the girl and closer toward the couple. “I’m sure you could.” He looked to Thorfinn. “Although, it is Thorfinn that was originally tasked with bringing me my amulet.” His eyes slowly trailed back to Hermione. “Perhaps we can keep you as collateral?” He eyed her as he slowly smirked. “I can think of a number of things I’d like to do to you while we… wait.” His fingers brushed her cheek.

Hermione slapped his hand away. “Don’t you touch me,” she spat at him. Thorfinn’s grip around her waist was bruising. 

Voldemort’s red eyes glowed eerily. His mouth twisted into a snarl. His hand shot out and grasped her neck tightly. Before either Hermione or Thorfinn could react, Voldemort was violently blasted away.

He slammed into the muggle tele and the dresser before falling forward. He groaned into the stunned silence that followed. 

Hermione’s heart was racing inside her chest. She could feel the warmth of the amulet against the skin of her sternum. She grabbed Thorfinn’s hand at her waist. “Run,” she whispered.

“What?”

The Death Eaters suddenly came alive and raced toward their master. 

“Run!” Hermione hissed, only slightly louder. She booked it toward the door with Thorfinn on her heels. The second they made it past the barrier, she grabbed his arm and apparated away. A bright green Killing Curse flew past her ear just as they disappeared.

Hermione shook her head when they arrived in a side alley of Diagon Alley. She groaned and pressed a hand to her forehead. Beyond a mild headache, she felt fine. No splinching. Her hand blindly reached out and she patted Thorfinn’s firm chest. 

“You good, handsome?”

Thorfinn groaned and forced himself to stand from where he’d fallen to his knees. He waved his wand over his wounds, sealing them temporarily and siphoning the blood off his skin. “I need a shirt,” he grumbled as he narrowed his eyes towards the mouth of the alley. “Diagon Alley?”

Hermione nodded as she fished around in her purse. She pulled out a white henley for him. 

“We can’t stay here,” he ground out as he shrugged the shirt on. It was a little snug, but it would do. 

“I know. We should go to the Order.”

Thorfinn snorted. “Yeah, fuck that.” He narrowed his eyes at her as he thought of the blast that had thrown the Dark Lord away like an annoying fly. “How the fuck did you do that?” She made a pained face and looked away. “ _ Hermione _ …” She sighed and slipped the amulet from her shirt. His eyes widened. “Fuck.”

“Tell me about it.”

“You put it on?” She winced at his tone. “Are you  _ mad _ ?”

“It just… I don’t know! It compelled me to do it or something.” 

Thorfinn wound his hands into his hair and groaned loudly. “We’re so  _ fucked _ !” he roared. 

Hermione smacked his arm. “No, we’re not! Now stop shouting. I’m going to the Order and we’re going to get their protection. We’ll hide you somewhere and I’ll put up the wards so  _ he _ can’t track your mark. Okay?”

He glared at her but nodded. 

Hermione crossed her arms. She nodded once back. “Good. Now, tell me what the hell that  _ thing _ calling himself ‘Dickie’ was.”

Thorfinn’s eyes widened and he sighed heavily. “Oh, baby doll, if you can figure that one out, you’ll be answering a lot of fucking questions I’ve had this past year and a half.”


	2. Chapter Two

#  Chapter Two

Hermione froze when she stepped into the basement kitchen of Grimmauld Place. The tension was so thick, it easily could have been cut with a knife. The moment her presence was registered, everyone froze. Dark glares turned her way.

Hermione forced herself not to step back.

“Guys?” she started nervously.

Remus gave her his patented stern professor look. “Hermione, is there something you’d like to tell us?”

Her eyes widened as she looked over the cold and some openly hostile stares of her peers. She licked her lips nervously. “Yes, actually. I have news…”

Ron scoffed. His face was already flushed and his eyes narrowed. Hermione knew that it did not bode well for her. “Something to do with your no-good Death Eater lover?”

Hermione’s jaw dropped and she blinked rapidly. “I beg your pardon?”

“Oh, save it,” he sneered. He tossed a copy of the  _ Daily Prophet _ on the table. It was a special evening edition and splattered across the front page was a photo of Hermione and Thorfinn embracing in the alley. The title above the photo in bold print was, ‘Star Crossed Lovers.’ Hermione was going to kill that bloody beetle.

She gasped audibly and snatched the paper off the table. “Oh, Christ.”

“Hermione?” Harry asked. He sounded world-weary and entirely too old for this. “Care to explain?”

“It’s staged, innit?” Tonks piped up from one end of the table. “Someone doctored the photos?”

Hermione winced. “Not… exactly.” When voices quickly began to raise she waved her hands, the paper flapped about and she shouted above the din, “Oi! Just listen!” She turned to Remus, Kingsley, Harry, and an irate Ron. “I went against your orders and went after the package I told you about.”

Kingsley raised a hand to cut off Ron’s immediate and instinctive scalding response. Kingsley raised an eyebrow at Hermione. “And?”

“And it was this,” she slipped the pendant from her neckline. “I was just attacked by You-Know-Who and  _ this _ saved me. Blasted him off his feet.” 

Harry’s eyes widened. “That was the package?” She nodded. “Why did you put it on?” She shrugged meekly and made a face. Honestly, she didn’t have an explanation for that one. It had just felt… right. “What is it?”

“I don’t really know. It’s fairly old. And it’s very powerful, for sure. I haven’t been able to find anything about it.”

Remus eyed the amulet warily. “Hermione, whatever that thing is, it’s not just  _ fairly old _ . It’s… it’s Old Magic sort of old. It’s Camelot and the Knights of the Round Table old.”

“Merlin sort of old?” she asked him, hoping to confirm her own suspicions.

Remus nodded, eyes wide and trained on the amulet. His werewolf senses could pick up on the scent of the ancient magic the amulet emanated. He’d never felt anything so old or so powerful before.

She licked her lips. “I can’t get it off.”

Harry groaned over the worried voices of the Order. “Why did I just know you were going to say that?”

“Oi!” Ron shouted. “What’s this got to do with the snake and how you were snoggin’ him in a bloody alley?” His face was burning red and Hermione fought back a wince. She doubted Ron would ever get over her accidentally marrying Thorfinn. It’s not as if she’d been  _ with _ Ron, but he’d been rather obvious about his emotions and his intentions with her. She knew he loved her and he’d likely never forgive her.

Hermione took a deep breath to calm herself and hoped it’d calm the slowly rising tempers of the Order members around her. “I stole the amulet from Rowle “He was punished and came looking for me today. We got ambushed and that’s when the amulet defended me.

“There was also this thing,” she continued quickly before someone could steal the floor from her again. “Not a wizard. He called the man ‘Dickie.’ He acted like an idiot but he did this… He used some sort of magic and fed off of this poor little girl. Sucked her completely dry of all her blood and water and just… everything. It was… horrific.”

The group looked uneasy and somewhat disgusted. “What was he doing there?” Kingsley asked.

Hermione shrugged. “Thorfinn said that Riddle uses Dickie as a bloodhound. Whoever he is, whatever he does, he can track people. He’s magical, but I’ve never seen or heard of anything like him before.”

Her announcement left the room in dark silence. Hermione waited a moment longer before saying, “I want to bring Thorfinn in.”

Ron’s glare could have lit her on fire at that pronouncement. Harry looked reluctant and Hermione could never read Kingsley all that well. Remus raised an eyebrow at her. “He’s turning himself in?” the werewolf asked.

“I was hoping we could protect him?”

Kingsley nodded like that was an obvious assumption. “He’ll give us information?”

Hermione made a face. “I’m not sure. Regardless, he’s defied Riddle multiple times for me. I think he deserves our help.”

Harry sighed. He looked pained as he said, “You mean the same way you’ve defied us multiple times for him?”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “I have not!”

“Hermione…” he scolded. “You have. And you’ve kept secrets. This amulet is the most recent one.”

“We can’t trust him,” Ron agreed. He crossed his arms and levelled a hard look on her. “And we can’t trust you either.” 

His words wouldn’t have been so painful if it weren’t for the fact that Harry didn’t disagree. Hermione couldn’t help the crestfallen expression that fell across her face. She had mourned her lost friendship with Ron weeks ago, but she didn’t think she could lose Harry.

“Why didn’t you tell us the moment you had it?” Harry questioned. His tone wasn’t cruel, but it had certainly lost its edge of understanding. Hermione could feel the conversation growing out of hand. “What are you hiding?”

“Nothing!” She glared at their looks of disbelief. “I’m not hiding anything!”

Harry pinned her with a hard stare she knew didn’t bode well for her. “I want to know what actually happened that night.” 

He was referring to the night she’d gone to do recon on the warehouse by the docks. It was a Death Eater hideyhole and they’d needed to know what was inside. Hermione had been caught by Thorfinn and in their ensuing snit -- snog -- they’d knocked over an experimental potion. Later, Thorfinn had told her it was to enhance one’s emotions, thereby enhancing their magic.

“I’ve already told you!” Hermione protested loudly. She refused to go over that night for the millionth time. They had made her relive it enough times it was probably permanently ingrained into her brain -- more than it would have already been. 

“The truth, Hermione!” Harry shouted. The minor grumblings of the other Order members fell silent as they always did when their Chosen One got in a tizzy. “People don’t just get accidentally married.”

“Married?” Tonks cut in, astonished. “Hermione’s married? To who?” she questioned, missing the obvious.

There was a long silence before Remus revealed, “Thorfinn Rowle.” Tonks swore under her breath. She stared at Hermione with wide eyes and shocked electric blue hair. It was certainly a better reaction than the outright glares she received from some of the other members. Molly Weasley looked horrified and furious. Hermione deliberately ignored the amused smirks of each of the twins. 

“I don’t know how it happened,” she defended, deciding to ignore everyone else for the betterment of her sanity. “It just did! Maybe it was the full moon or maybe it was all the bloody experimental potions we’d inhaled. I don’t know! I barely remember that night.” She flushed when she said it and no one needed to be a werewolf to know she was fibbing.

George snorted and boldly stated, “Well,  _ that’s  _ a lie.”

Ron, emboldened by his brother’s sarcastic comment, leaned forward with his hands flat on the table. He glared at Hermione with such rage and hate that Hermione flinched. “What the fuck are you hiding? Besides the fact that you’re still letting that snake slither between your legs.”

Hermione’s hands curled into fists at her side. Something inside her snapped. She could only take Ron’s attitude for so long. He’d been playing the wounded party for months now. Every time she opened her mouth, she risked some snide comments on his part. The irate witch took a step forward. She let the magic flow through her body, her anger made her power even more potent. 

“You know what? Fine -- yes,” she cruelly seethed at Ron. “I remember the entire night. I remember every fucking moment of it and the sex was bloody  _ earth-shattering _ . Is that what you want to hear?” The nearly purple colour of the redheaded wizard’s face told her that was decidedly not what he had wanted to hear. “I was there, it happened. I felt it happen. But I don’t know  _ how _ the marriage bond was initiated or  _ why _ . It just happened. I have not slept with him since then.”

Remus’ cheeks were bright red as he asked, “Was it… I mean… sometimes virgin blood…?”

Hermione snorted. “Yeah, no. Definitely not that.”

George snickered into his hand. “This is the best meeting ever.”

Hermione glared at him. “Keep it up, George. I’ll tell them all about our threesome in fifth.” He smirked and looked over at Fred who was smiling charmingly at Hermione. Ron looked nearly apoplectic. “We’re getting off-topic!” she shouted.

“Very,” Harry growled. He glared at the Weasley twins who looked away innocently.

Kingsley stared at Hermione seriously as he firmly stated, “If we take him in, it’ll be as a captive, not a victim.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “You can’t just tie him down and torture him,” she immediately protested.

Ron glared at her petulantly. “Why the bloody hell not?”

“Because then what reason does he have for joining us?” she shouted. “It’s exactly what they’ll do to him if he goes back.” She looked back and forth between Remus and Harry pleadingly.

Harry crossed his arms and shook his head. “We won’t let him. He’s ours now.”

Hermione’s mouth went dry. “Harry, please.”

“Where is he, Hermione?” He wasn’t budging. His mind had been made.

Hermione’s mind raced. “… I’ll take you to him. Just… please don’t hurt him.” If she was there with them maybe she could convince them to -

“- You’re not going with us.” Hermione’s heart sank. She opened her mouth to protest but Harry raised a hand. “No. Hermione, you’re out of the field… permanently.” Hermione stepped back, stunned. “You’re in over your head and you’re throwing weird magical objects on yourself and spouting about magical creatures that don’t exist. He’s fucking with you, love. The whole marriage thing was probably a set up so they could get inside your head. Your mind is our greatest weapon and they’re trying to destroy it. I won’t let that happen.”

Hermione’s eyes watered. She bit her bottom lip to stop it from trembling. “I’m not crazy,” she whispered. She was saddened that he would ever think such a thing. But she was furious that he would say it in front of everyone. Hermione kept her eyes on Harry. She didn’t want to see everyone’s pitying stares. 

“Once we have Rowle,” Harry explained softly, “we’ll break whatever hold he has on you and you can go back to doing what you do best, alright?” Research, he meant. Books and cleverness. No fighting. He wanted to lock her up in the library and go back to being the little swot from pre-fourth year -- pre-Thorfinn Rowle.

She hated herself for not being able to stop the tear that fell down her cheek. “Harry…”

“Where is he?”

Hermione’s eyes fluttered shut. “Railview Hotel… Cokeworth.”

“We’ll get him, ‘Mione,” he promised earnestly. “You’ll see.” She really, really didn’t want to see.

The meeting disbanded and everyone filed out. Hermione stood rooted to the spot, her eyes closed. No one said anything as they passed. Each of the twins touched her hand discreetly before ducking out. She knew it was their silent protestation. Hermione was happy to know that at least they still had her back.

Two hands came to rest heavily on her shoulders. Hermione looked up at Harry sadly. “Look, ‘Mione. I know you really liked him when we were in our fourth year. You two were together for several months but… he’s not the same guy now.”

“Harry…” She knew that. She wasn’t making excuses for Thorfinn. He had done terrible things in the name of eradication of her own kind -- but she also knew he didn’t give a rats arse about pureblood mania. He had never cared about that. 

“He’s a Death Eater. He’ll do anything for his master.”

Hermione shook her head. “He lied to Riddle about being married to me.”

“He told you that?” Harry questioned. “Did he prove it? Has he proved anything? I don’t blame you, ‘Mione. They’re tricky. They’re amazing liars. I’m sorry I didn’t stop this earlier. It all seemed so innocent when we were kids.” The look he gave her nearly broke her heart. He thought she was lost -- broken. 

Hermione swallowed, biting back the tears. “It wasn’t innocent,” she whispered. “It never was. I didn’t like him, Harry. I loved him.”

Harry sighed. “Don’t lie, Hermione. You still do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> xx


	3. Chapter Three

#  Chapter Three

“Thor!” Hermione hollered as she apparated to the motel room they’d gotten in Surrey. 

“Blimey, witch,” he hollered as he stumbled out of the bathroom. He lowered his shirt over his freshly bandaged wounds. “Where’s the bloody fire?”

“We have to go!” she shouted frantically. She waved her wand, collecting the healing supplies she’d left behind for him. Her eyes quickly scanned the room and she nodded once to herself, assured that nothing else was left behind. 

“I take it they didn’t go for the plan,” Thorfinn snarked with a little smirk as he ran a hand through his long blond hair.

She pursed her lips and her little fists rested on her hips as she glared at him. “They think I’m mental!”

“What?” Thorfinn couldn’t help the startled laugh that left him. 

She rolled her eyes and huffed. The sadness had quickly dissipated and Hermione was furious. “They think you married me to fuck with my mind and now you’re destroying it and causing hallucinations or something. I don’t know. Who bloody knows?” Thorfinn’s eyes slowly widened. Had the Order completely lost their shit? “I sent them to Cokeworth, but Harry’s going to figure out I lied faster than I’d care to admit. He knows me too well. We need to go.”

“Where to?”

“You pick. They know anywhere I would go. And no offence, I’m not willing to take you to the one place they wouldn’t know about.”

Thorfinn shrugged, no offence was taken. “Right, let’s go.” He drew his wand into his hand and took her hand in his other. Together they left the motel room and headed to the edge of the building. “We can apparate around the corner.”

Hermione made a noise of agreement. They turned the corner of the building and Thorfinn immediately drew Hermione into his arms. Her back crashed against his chest, her wand disappeared and his own suddenly dug into her throat. 

“Hermione!”

The curly-haired witch gasped and looked across the short distance to her best friend. He and a few of the senior Order members were gathered together. They must have just arrived.

“Harry?”

Thorfinn’s arm around her waist jerked her back roughly. “Zip it,” he growled at her. “Lower your wands or I burn her alive.” Hermione's eyes widened. She scrambled frantically to get away, but he was far too strong. Stupid, massive arms. His grip was like steel. 

Harry's wand trembled as he glared harshly at the Death Eater. Thorfinn raised an eyebrow challengingly. His wand glowed like an ember. Hermione gasped in pain and tried to jerk away. 

“Stop it! Stop it, please!” she pleaded.

“Alright!” Harry shouted. “Alright! Wands down. Let her go, Rowle.”

Thorfinn raised his eyebrows. “Let her go? What wizard in their right mind would ever let this one go.” He mockingly kissed the top of her head. “Brilliant, beautiful, and sucks cock like an angel.”

Hermione violently jabbed an elbow into his stomach. He laughed loudly, completely unphased by her attack despite the fact she knew he was still wounded. Quick as a flash, the hand at her hip jumped to her throat. Hermione grabbed his wrist but was unable to draw his grip away. 

“Hermione!” Harry shouted. He moved to help her, but Thorfinn raised his wand, still firmly pointed at Hermione, in a warning. Harry stilled, his eyes narrowed into little slits. 

Thorfinn chuckled darkly. “So gullible,” he taunted and Hermione knew the comment was meant for her. 

“Thor?” she whispered. Her heart was racing. She eyed the way the Order was glaring at him. They were waiting for an opportunity to strike and Hermione couldn't be sure whether they cared if she was in the crossfire or not. Harry still cared -- bless him. 

“I can’t believe you actually fell for it all,” Thorfinn taunted. “All that rubbish. There you were standing before all your friends and them shoving the truth in your face and you… what?” He leaned down so his lips teased her ear. “Pick love over friendship? Gryffindor,” he scoffed.

“Let her go, Rowle!” Harry shouted. 

“And miss out on all the fun we’re gonna have? Oh no… and we’re going to have lots of fun, aren’t we?” The last part was directed to Hermione who was still holding his wrist, hoping he wouldn't choke her. “Your pretty little head is mine…” His eyes flickered to Harry and he winked. “… and everything else.”

“Rowle!”

“I don’t recommend trying to look. We all know if Hermione Granger puts her mind to not being found, no one will find her. And that’s exactly what you’re going to put your mind to, isn’t it?” She didn't respond. Thorfinn smiled indulgently. He kissed her cheek. “Say ‘goodbye, boys.’”

“Goodbye, boys,” Hermione echoed, her voice weak even to her own ears. 

Thorfinn shot them a final wink before he turned and disapparated away. The Order hollered and spells were shot after them, but none of them hit. Hermione's eyes squeezed shut. Thorfinn’s grip tightened during the apparation and for a moment, she couldn't breathe on top of the acute discomfort of apparating. 

She gasped for breath when they landed. Thorfinn let go of her and stepped back. Without his support, Hermione immediately fell to her knees. “Fuck, dollface. You okay?” 

He dropped to his knees beside her and spread his fingers across her back. Hermione whipped her head up, her hair fanned through the air with the motion. She glared at Thorfinn and launched herself at him. “Oi!” he shouted. She pummelled his chest with her fists. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, a grimace on his face as his wounds were once more battered and torn. “Hermione!” he hollered over her struggles.

She glared up at him, her nose wrinkled and her lips pursed. Thorfinn couldn’t help but think she was adorable. “Don’t bloody scare me like that!” she yelled. 

“I thought you saw through the plan!” he yelled back. 

Hermione shoved him. He lost his balance and fell back onto his arse with a foul curse. “Of course, I saw through the bloody plan!” she shouted as she jumped to her feet. “Doesn’t mean you aren’t absolutely fucking chilling as a villain.”

Thorfinn rolled his eyes as he spread his legs and leaned his elbows on his bent knees. “News flash, beautiful, I  _ am _ a villain.”

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. “They’re going to come after us now.”

“They were either way,” he informed her gently.

“But now they’re going to hunt you down and probably kill you.” The panic in her voice was obvious. 

Thorfinn gave her a little wink and a charming grin. “Well, better hope we don’t let that happen then, eh?”

Hermione groaned. “We are so fucked.”

\/

Thorfinn had taken them to a small cottage that he had squatted in on and off again since the war started up. It was tiny. So small, that Thorfinn had to duck whenever he passed through any of the doorways. He didn’t own the place, which presented the first problem.

“My wards last longer on land that is owned by the caster.”

“We can leave,” Thorfinn offered with a shrug. He sat at the little circular table as she made tea. 

“It’s fine. We’ll only be here as long as it takes me to remove your mark. Once that’s done, we should go somewhere more permanent.” She set a teapot on the table with two mugs. “The risk of being found is very high right now. So, if the location is temporary, it won’t be much of a problem if we need to leave.” Hermione poured them both tea before Thorfinn pulled her down into his lap. She perched on his thigh as she stirred sugar into her tea and milk into his.

“Is that why you were always on the move at the start?” She raised an eyebrow and he continued. “During the first year of the war, the  _ real _ first year during what would have been your seventh year, you and your little friends were constantly on the move.”

Hermione nodded. “We were on a mission, so we would have had to be on the move anyways. But my wards did give us a timeline on how long we could stay in a place. We’ve got about two weeks on us.”

He nodded as he took a sip of tea. His left hand rhythmically smoothed up and down her back. “Will it be enough?”

Hermione smiled sweetly and gave him a kiss. “Trust me.”

“Always do.” He took another long sip of his tea. The fact that she still remembered how he liked it made his chest warm. “You gonna explain to me about this ‘mission,’ now?” Hermione bit her lip. “Come on, little witch. Trust me.”

She narrowed her eyes on him as if assessing if he was ready to hear the truth. “He created Horcruxes.” Thorfinn choked on his next sip of tea. He gave his wife a wide-eyed stare. “We destroyed them. All of them.”

Thorfinn nodded, eyes still wide. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally settling on, “Well, that’s good.”

Hermione snorted a laugh. She sipped her tea, eyeing Thorfinn over the rim of her mug in amusement. He eventually regained his composure and finished off his mug of tea. Hermione poured him another cup. “Unfortunately, once all the receptacles containing his soul pieces were destroyed, he retreated. We think he performed some sort of spell that brought all the released soul fragments back together again.”

Thorfinn rubbed a hand down the side of his face. “Of course, he did.”

“He’s more powerful now.”

“And less deranged.”

Hermione hummed. “I had noticed that, yes. I don’t think he’ll be making anymore Horcruxes. Our sources say he hasn’t yet, at least.”

Thorfinn raised an eyebrow. “Sources?”

Hermione smiled and kissed him sweetly.

He rolled his eyes, an amused grin stretching across his lips. He knew she wouldn’t tell him who their spies were. That sort of information was probably privileged to very few in the Order. “He hasn’t been focusing on immortality -- or if he has, it’s indirectly through something else.”

“Dickie?” Thorfinn nodded. “There are others? More like him?” Again he nodded. “How many? What are they?”

“I’m not sure. I only really know of Dickie, but there are whispers. Whatever the hell that man is, he’s beyond dark. He’s like nothing else I’ve ever seen before.”

Hermione’s fingers tightened around her mug. Her eyes flickered back and forth as her mind raced. She shook her head. “We can’t focus on that right now. First, we need to get the mark off.”

“Then,” Thorfinn continued, “we need to figure out what the bleeding hell this is.” He fingered the amulet around her neck. “And what exactly it’s doing stuck around your pretty neck.”

Hermione’s hand dropped to the amulet. She wrapped her fingers around the stone and breathed deeply. There was that feeling again of old, powerful magic. It thrummed inside the stone and vibrated against the skin of her palm. Whatever the amulet was, Hermione didn’t know. She could only hope it wasn’t bad.

Her eyes fluttered shut. Her hands shook. “I can’t believe him,” she whispered.

Thorfinn sighed. Clearly, he had been expecting this eventual reaction. “He’s worried about you.”

“He called me crazy!”

Thorfinn took her mug from her hand before she spilled it all over both of them. He set it on the table. “Well, Potter isn’t really known for his brains.”

Hermione’s face crumpled as a gut-wrenching sob escaped her. “I’m his best friend!” she cried. “I’ve never betrayed him.  _ I _ never left.  _ I _ didn’t desert him. And he just -” she waved her hand across the room “- just… I’m not crazy.”

Thorfinn kissed her temple. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in to cry against his chest. “I know you’re not, sweetheart.”

“He knows… he knows about us when we were in school.” Thorfinn raised his eyebrows at that. He hadn’t known Harry was in the know about their little love affair. “How could he think you’d do that to me?” She lifted her head and looked at him with watery eyes. “How could he think I’d ever  _ be _ with someone who was capable of something like that?”

“He’s just upset,” he whispered against her forehead. He kissed her there. “He’ll come ‘round.”

Hermione snorted in derision. Her tears had calmed somewhat and she harshly wiped them off her cheeks. “‘Come ‘round?’ Maybe when there was an option for doubt.” She glared at him. “You’ve shot that to hell now.” 

He shook his head. “No. I’ve left open the possibility for you to go back. If you ‘escape’ or we get caught by the Order, you will be welcomed back.”

Hermione bit her lip to fight back the tears. “I don’t want to go back without you.”

He smiled sadly. She knew he thought that she would change her mind. One day, he thought she’d walk away and go back to her friends. Hermione held his face between both her hands. She stared deeply into his bright blue eyes. “You’re it for me, babe. We’re married. You’re stuck with me. So, you better get used to having me sit on your face.”

Thorfinn smiled broadly.

\/

_ Hermione wrapped her arms tightly around Thorfinn’s neck. She kissed him, long and hard. His big, muscular arms wound around her delicate waist. He pulled her to his chest so the toes of her heels dangled almost a foot off the ground. _

_ “I gotta go, darling,” he murmured against her lips. _

_ “No,” she protested. She shook her head, nudging her nose against his. “Don’t go.” _

_ Thorfinn stared into her big brown eyes and his heart nearly broke. He pressed his lips against hers once more. His hand rose up to let his fingers thread through her hair. Another long and heated kiss later, he finally let her go. _

_ She slipped back to her feet but kept her chest pressed against his own. Thorfinn’s arms remained wrapped around her waist. She looked so beautiful in her pink dress. Her wild curls were pulled back into that sleek, wavy style that all the girls favoured of the 40s.  _

_ “I’m going to miss you, dollface.”  _

_ Hermione gently cupped his face. His jaw was cleanly shaven, his hair neatly trimmed and styled. He looked so handsome in his fatigues. Hermione’s eyes teared. “Please come back to me. Come home.” _

_ Thorfinn captured her hands and kissed her knuckles. “Nothing could stop me, love. But first I’m going to go do my part. I know you’re scared, but we need to fight back. We can’t let the Nazis win.” _

_ Hermione nodded. Her tears fell silently down her cheeks. “Give them hell.” _

_ Thorfinn smiled broadly. He leaned in and pressed a final kiss to her lips before he turned to join the other new recruits.  _

_ It would be their last kiss. _

\/

Hermione gasped awake. 

The moon shone through the cabin window, turning the curtains translucent. The light stretched across the bed. Hermione pushed herself up onto her elbows as she tried to regain her breath. Thorfinn stirred behind her, his body snuggly spooning her own. 

Hermione pressed a hand to her forehead. It was clammy. Her heart was racing. Hermione’s shaking fingers drifted down to the amulet around her neck. The stone was warm and tingly against the pads of her fingers. 

Thorfinn pressed a sleepy kiss against her arm. Hermione looked over her shoulder at him. “Sweetheart?” he questioned, his voice thick with sleep.

“Go back to sleep,” she whispered.

Thorfinn slowly blinked his eyes open. “What’s wrong?”

Hermione shifted until she faced him fully. “Nothing’s wrong. Please sleep.” 

He leaned close and pressed a soft kiss against her lips. “Talk to me.”

She sighed. “I had a dream.”

“Oh?”

Hermione wriggled and shifted in the bed. She pressed Thorfinn onto his back so she could rest her head against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, surrounding her with his warmth. “We were muggles, I think. You were a soldier.” Thorfinn slowly dragged his fingers up and down the length of her spine as she whispered to him in the night. “We were sweethearts. You went off to fight in the war and… and you didn’t come back.”

His movements stilled. Thorfinn wrapped his arms around her tightly. “I’m not going anywhere,” was his gruff response.

“It felt so real,” Hermione whispered. Her heart still ached with the loss of him. The tears her dream-self had shed were just bubbling under the surface, ready to be let loose once again. “Like a memory more than a dream.”

Thorfinn kissed the top of her head. “That’s how dreams are, love. Go to sleep.”

“Don’t leave.”

“Never.”

\/

“Would it kill you to put your bloody clothes away?” Hermione snapped upon finding a pair of trousers on the floor  _ again _ .

Thorfinn looked over his shoulder at her from where he stood at the stove. “Excuse me for being a little busy  _ providing food for you _ .”

She pursed her lips. “You say that like I'm not perfectly capable of cooking for myself.”

Thorfinn raised his eyebrows. His expression said it all. 

“I can cook!” she protested hotly.

“You can  _ burn _ .”

Hermione’s cheeks flushed. “Shut up!”

“Oh, very mature,” Thorfinn snarked scathingly. He hadn’t even fully turned away from the stove and Hermione was more than a little annoyed that he hadn’t burned anything yet. How dare he?

“Like leaving your clothes on the floor like a proper child?” she snapped. Her temper had flared long ago and the explosion was imminent. “I am not your mother!”  _ Boom _ \-- Hiroshima.

“Thank Merlin for that,” Thorfinn sneered, “else it’d get a bit awkward when I’ve got you on your knees later tonight.”

Her eyes widened. “Go fuck yourself, Rowle. I am not sucking your cock. Get reacquainted with your hand, you two will be seeing lots of each other.”

The smile that slithered across his face did  _ not _ make her heart race. “Oh sweetheart, don’t make threats you can’t stick to.” His blue eyes glittered as they raked up and down her form.

Hermione stiffly crossed her arms over her chest. “I can stick to my  _ promises _ .”

He winked at her. “We’ll see.” 

Her cheeks flushed and her heart skipped a beat. Damn him and his stupidly beautiful face. “You are the most aggravating man I’ve ever met.”

“I think you mean ‘charming,’” he replied in an appealing voice.

She rolled her eyes and curled her lip. “Such a prat,” she said with disgust.

Thorfinn jerked a thumb over his shoulder to the bubbling pot on the stove. “I’m going to finish cooking now. You finish cleaning up. We will eat. And then we will fuck. Any questions?”

Hermione shifted on her feet. She hated the way his commanding tone always affected her. She was angry with him, she did not want to climb him like a tree and taste him. Nope. No. Hermione pouted. “Why do I have to clean?”

“Because you can’t cook!” he roared. Hermione let out a shout of frustration and stomped away.

\/

Hermione’s fingers gently trailed the dark black ink on Thorfinn’s left forearm. Her magic pushed outward, curiously dancing along the edges of the Dark Mark.

Thorfinn sat back against the headboard of the bed. The pillows were piled behind him. “One question,” he spoke into the stillness of their bedroom. Hermione tilted her head in acknowledgement of his words, but otherwise remained silent, “are we always going to be naked when you examine the mark?”

A smirk curved Hermione’s lips. She leaned back against Thorfinn’s bare chest, relishing the feel of skin on skin. She looked over her shoulder at him and he smiled at her little smirk. “Are you complaining?”

He snorted out a laugh. “You kiddin’ me, sweetheart? Being naked is pretty much the only thing that stops us from bickering these days.” Hermione hummed in agreement. “Think we can keep your inspections of the mark happening four… maybe five times a day?”

Hermione laughed quietly. “And then what happens when I finally manage to get this  _ thing _ off of you?”

“Then we’ll have celebratory shags  _ six _ times a day.”

Hermione laughed loudly. “Promises, promises.” She waved her hand at him dismissively. “Now quiet, I need to focus.” Thorfinn huffed out a sigh. He leaned forward and pressed soft kisses along her shoulders and neck. 

He stilled when he felt a flash of heat shoot down his arm. His eyebrows furrowed. Another flash of heat flared up. “ _ Hermione _ ,” he ground out between clenched teeth. The heat flared once more, hotter than before. The red hot flames seared through his body. Thorfinn’s hands clenched into fists. “ _ Hermione _ !”

“Just hold on!” Hermione shouted. 

Thorfinn threw his head back and roared. The pain was almost as terrible as when he first got the mark. His body jerked and thrashed. Hermione pushed him down flat against the bed, a feat only accomplished with magic. Her other hand remained firmly around his wrist. 

Thorfinn screamed. His face flushed red. His entire body jerked and shuddered. The veins in his neck and arms protruded. His fingers gripped the sheets beneath him as his body thrashed against the bed. His eyes rolled back and everything went black.

“Babe? Babe, can you hear me?” Hermione’s soft voice drifted through the fog. “Come on, handsome. Open your eyes -- for me.” Thorfinn groaned. Something wet and cool was pressed against his forehead. He raised a hand to it and found Hermione’s hand on the wet cloth there. “Thor?”

“H’mione?”

“Oh, honey.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You had me really worried for a minute.”

He groaned again. His eyelids felt like they weighed a million pounds. He couldn’t even think of opening them. His muscles were tired and heavy and his body was wet from sweat. “The fuck did you do to me, sweetheart?” he slurred slowly.

She kissed him soundly. “You’ll thank me later.”

He stilled. His mind might have been running slowly, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out what she meant. “You did it?”

“Did you ever doubt me?”

He chuckled beneath his breath. “Somewhere between the arguing over dinner and the torture, yes.” 

She blew a raspberry at him, which he ignored. “I need you to put some trousers on,” she instructed as she slipped off the bed. Hermione pulled a thermal shirt over her head and donned a pair of leggings. 

Thorfinn didn’t move. “Do I have to?”

“We need to go. We’ve been here too long as it is. Now that the mark is gone,  _ he _ will think you’re dead. He won’t be able to find you. We need to set up better wards. But we can’t stay here.” She sat on the bed as she slipped her socks and shoes on.

Thorfinn ran a heavy hand down his face. “I don’t think I can move.” 

She gave him a look of sympathy. “I’ll get you a Pepper-Up Potion.” He grunted in response and waited the agonizingly long seconds it took for Hermione to retrieve the potion. His witch returned and tipped the mouth of the potion to his lips. Thorfinn swallowed it down in one large gulp. The effect was instantaneous. 

His body still ached. His muscles were still beaten and bruised, but he had enough energy to move. Slowly, he pulled himself up and accepted the clothing that Hermione handed to him. He sighed at the hammy down clothes. “Does this change of venue mean I can stop wearing Potter’s transfigured clothes?”

Hermione paused from collecting their things about the room. She smiled at him and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I’ll see what I can do. Do you have a place in mind?”

He nodded. “I can’t apparate just yet.”

Hermione nodded. “I’ll take us somewhere muggle first. How long will you need?”

“A day? Maybe two.”

“Okay, put your clothes on and get ready. I’ll have everything packed in a few minutes.”

Thorfinn followed her instructions and just managed to pull himself together in time for Hermione to side-along apparate him to a new location. He groaned and bent over. The only reason he didn’t vomit was that there was nothing in his stomach. He gagged into the grass. 

Hermione made a sound of sympathy and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Deep breaths, babe,” she instructed, not unkindly. Her hand rubbed soothing circles along his upper back. 

Thorfinn growled and spat into the grass. He ground his teeth and pushed himself to stand. His energy was already flagging. The Pepper-Up Potion could only do so much for so long. He took a look around and his brow immediately creased.

“Where the hell are we?”

There was a large field of grass surrounded by woods. A tall, old wood building was sitting in the middle of the clearing. There was a long dirt road that led out through the woods towards what Thorfinn assumed was civilization. 

“The Lyon,” Hermione explained quietly. She shifted on her feet.

Thorfinn immediately noted her nervousness. “Muggle?” he questioned with a quirk of his brow. He was exhausted, but Hermione was hesitant and her concern came first.

She nodded and bit her bottom lip. Her doe eyes flickered up to take in the sight of the inn. It was painted a soft blue and there was ivy crawling up along the sides and across the balcony. “My parents spent their honeymoon here. We used to come back every year for a week.” She shook her head to his unspoken question. “No one knows about it.”

Thorfinn wasn’t entirely sure how to respond. He squeezed his hand where it rested on her hip. She turned and gave him a sad smile. “We haven’t gotten to go since ‘97.” The week leading up to Hermione disappearing with Harry and Ron had been spent at the Lyon Inn.

“Ready?” She nodded silently and together they moved past the tree line and up the dirt road. “Will the wards work here?”

“They’re already in place from the last time I was here. Magical repellent wards. If you’re magical, you can only find it if you already know about it. Muggles are totally free and welcome.”

“So, we can’t stay here long,” Thorfinn concluded as they headed up the steps. 

“No,” she confirmed with a small shake of her head. “The wards can be bypassed fairly easily once someone figures out what they are. A few days for you to regroup and then you pick the next place.”

Wind chimes rang above them as they entered the inn. It was small and quaint. The front desk was stationed in the next room over past a small set of stairs leading up to the second floor. The walls were flower print with bright teal trim. The floors were a rich wood that matched the front desk. There were plush, mismatched chairs decorating the living space to the right. 

Thorfinn looked around suspiciously. “Original?” he questioned, unused to the muggle world.

“Very,” she confirmed. His nose wrinkled as he stepped toward the front desk. There was a framed photo of a truly terrible drawing of a cat. He raised an eyebrow at Hermione. “The word you are looking for,” she explained primly, “is ‘eccentric.’”

Thorfinn nodded exaggeratedly. “Sure,  _ that’s _ the word.”

“It’s a place to rest,” she reminded him, “and then we can go somewhere more permanent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> xx


	4. Chapter Four

#  Chapter Four

They spent the first day in bed. Hermione read up on the amulet as much as she could and Thorfinn slept. He was grumpy every time she roused him for food and smiled like a little boy when he got to snuggle back under the covers. By the time dinner rolled around, she was fairly sure that he was just milking the attention.

The second day started with breakfast in the dining room. There were several round tables set up with mismatched chairs. Thorfinn was decidedly not a fan of the decor, but he forgave the clashing patterns because of the food. Hermione was fairly certain he was going to eat Lyon Inn out of house and home. None of the staff cared.

“More pancakes for you, dear.” Mrs. Polly set the plate stacked with no less than six fluffy pancakes before the hulking wizard. She rested a hand on his shoulder and he gave her a toothless grin, his cheeks stuffed with food like a chipmunk. “More coffee?”

Thorfinn swallowed and nodded. “Please. You’re too kind, Pamela,” he thanked with a wink.

Pamela Polly, a woman who had been grey-haired and wrinkled since Hermione first met her at the age of three, blushed and giggled. “Oh, such a charmer.” Mrs. Polly turned her smiled on Hermione. “Quite the catch you’ve got here, sweetie.”

Hermione smiled faintly, more than a little amused by Thorfinn’s antics. “He’s alright,” she joked and raised her teacup to her lips. 

Thorfinn mock glared at her. “Oi.”

Pamela laughed and patted Thorfinn’s shoulder. “I’m sure Helena and Hugo think the same.” She smiled at the wizard, missing the way Hermione’s smile fell. “Where are your parents? We haven’t seen you three in ages.”

“Oh… they’ve been busy.” She ducked her head and drank her tea.

Pamela eyed the young witch for a long moment before nodding and changing the topic. “Any plans for today?”

“We’re going to take a walk into town and pick up a few things. We’re… travelling.” Hermione gave a tight smile.

“Well,” Pamela replied at length, “that sounds nice.” She patted Thorfinn’s shoulder and gave him an indulgent smile. “Let me know if you need anything else. And be sure you’re both back for lunch, Betsy is already pulling together a whole feast for you.” By ‘you’ it was fairly obvious she meant ‘Thorfinn.’ The wizard’s eyes brightened. Hermione smothered a laugh.

After breakfast, the two of them walked hand and hand down the long dirt road. It was about a fifteen-minute walk into town where Hermione claimed there would be a few thrift stores. Thorfinn was not pleased with the idea of more used clothes but hoped they would at least fit better. He was getting tired of having to transfigure the random shirts Hermione still had hiding away in her purse after the year she’d spent on the run. Most of the items were old and clearly forgotten.

“Are they okay?” he asked her as they walked. 

Hermione shook her head to pull herself out of her thoughts. She turned and raised an eyebrow at her husband. “Who?”

“Your parents. Mrs. Polly said it’d been a few years since you’d all been here.”

“And I told you that I hadn’t been here since four years ago, just before we went on the run.”

Thorfinn turned his head in her direction. “Hermione,” he gently pressed.

She sighed. “They’re alive and well. No one but I know where they are and that’s how it’ll remain until  _ he _ is dead and gone.”

Thorfinn was quiet for a long moment. “As long as they’re safe.”

She hugged his arm with her free hand, her head rested against his bicep. “Perfectly.”

\/

Thorfinn took them to the tiniest cottage she’d ever seen. It was made of stone and set by the sea in Northern Wales. It looked to be a good several hundred years old and did not, in fact, have a working washroom. Hermione was not impressed by that fact. Luckily, the weather was still warm enough that bathing in the nearby spring wasn’t much of a hassle. There was no lucky alternative to the outhouse. Hermione did not like the outhouse.

The Rowle’s had claimed this property centuries ago when they’d still been Vikings. Hermione had actually giggled at the realization that her Viking looking husband was  _ actually _ descended from them. As the story went, a storm had passed through while the family was travelling from Ireland back to Norway. They had settled along the coast to wait out the storm which turned into the winter and then once spring had rolled around again they hadn’t wanted to leave.

They didn’t just own the property, they had  _ claimed _ it. It made the wards they put up even more powerful than they could have hoped for. They would be safe there for as long as they needed to stay. Hermione was hoping for not too long, in the hopes of finding a proper toilet.

The home -- more of a hut, really -- had an old fireplace with a hook for a cauldron that also acted as the stove. There was a small, wobbly wooden table for two, a bookcase, a cupboard, and a bed. 

Hermione lost her breath when she pulled out the books. Old magical books -- Camelot old. She handled them with the utmost care, reverently turning each page as slowly as possible. 

“You swear you didn’t know about them?” Hermione asked for the seventh time since uncovering the treasure trove of knowledge.

Thorfinn shook his head and shrugged. He had his back to her as he stirred something that smelled delicious in the iron cauldron above the fire. “Are they interesting or will they help?” They had yet to find anything on the amulet yet and neither of them could get it to come off.

“Definitely interesting. Possibly helpful. They are from a similar era, so fingers crossed.”

“Muggle saying.”

“Wish me luck,” she explained without looking up from the book.

Thorfinn sat down in the chair across from her. He pulled a red book towards him and opened the cover. “Merlin. Wicked.” Hermione hummed distractedly and continued reading her book. 

Thorfinn slowly moved through the passages of the old book. It contained the stories and myths of Merlin. He remembered most of them from History of Magic. These had a few subtle variations in the places and exactly how things were accomplished. There were thirteen witches under the full moon at Samhain, not seven -- Merlin saved a young woman, not an old man. They were what would be considered minor and unimportant details in History of Magic.

The History of Magic was all about the main people involved -- who they were and most importantly, who they were related to. Were they descendent of another powerful witch or wizard? Did they belong to a pure-blooded family? Who is descended  _ from _ them? The other main topic of History of Magic was the wars. Wars between magical creatures, amongst wizarding kind, and one pitted against the other. There was something about the back and forth of magical powers that drew the attention of magical historians around the world. 

Thorfinn had always found it interesting that the historians never focused on who was fighting for what reason but more so the magic involved. It always came down to the magic. Good versus bad. Light versus dark. The magical world was very black and white. He slowly turned the page of the book, idly wondering where exactly the wizarding world had developed such an obsession.

He sucked in a sharp breath. “Hermione,” he whispered. 

She hummed.

“ _ Hermione _ .”

“What?” She shot him an irritated look. Thorfinn held up the book and spun it around so she could see. There, drawn in ink and slowly fading away, was a picture of the amulet. “Oh my god.” She gently took the book from his hands and pulled it close. Her eyes rapidly flickered across the accompanying text. 

“What does it say?” he asked, anxiously. 

She licked her lips. Her brows furrowed. “Not much. It’s called Merlin’s Pendant. He created it.”

“ _ Merlin _ . As in,  _ the _ Merlin?”

She shrugged and nodded. “I - I don’t understand. I’ve never heard of Merlin leaving behind any sort of artifact beyond Excalibur -- after Arthur died.”

Thorfinn shrugged as well, knowing he was well out of his depth. “I never learned much about Arthur. I know Excalibur, of course. Goblin made, magical, forged in the breath of a dragon, and tempered in the blood of faeries.”

Hermione’s nose wrinkled. “Don’t remind me.” She shook her head. “I learned more about Arthur from the muggle stories.”

“Muggles know about Arthur?”

She looked up at him, brows raised. “Of course. Arthur brought magic back to the land. He united both the magical and muggle worlds in harmony. He’s the only leader to have ever done that. Muggles remember him just the same, although they think it’s all fiction. Well, most. Some believe he did exist but was a soldier or leader of some kind and the stories all sort of… got out of hand.”

Thorfinn looked suitably impressed. He hadn’t realized muggles entertained the idea of magic at all. “Is the amulet in the muggle stories?”

“Not that I know of, but I’m not an expert.” She pursed her lips. “I wonder if we could find one… a muggle who studies Arthurian literature.” Hermione nibbled her bottom lip as she considered it before shaking her head. “We should find more information from the magical side first, it’s a better shot.”

“Is it? This isn’t the first book on Merlin that you’ve looked at.”

Hermione had to concede that point. “No, but these books are far closer in age to the time Merlin is theorized to have been alive.”

“They are?” He looked down at the books. “When was he around?”

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “If you believe the  _ wizarding world _ than it was after the creation of Hogwarts, but that’s total bollocks. Merlin never would have been able to attend Hogwarts as a child. It was built in 990 BCE and the first stories of Merlin date back to 400 BCE in Ireland.” She tapped the book. “Exactly when this book is from. These books are probably our best bet right now.”

Thorfinn smiled charmingly. “Go on, you can say it. I picked a good hideout.”

Hermione gave him an indulgent smile back. “You picked a good hideout, babe.”

\/

Hermine refused to surface from her books. She was curled up in a ball on the bed, a pile of books surrounding her. She was going through them with a fine-tooth comb, refusing to let a single possible clue pass her by.

They’d decided the best course of action would be to find Merlin’s Temple -- the tomb of the greatest wizard to ever live. Thorfinn decided not to point out that  _ no one _ had ever actually found Merlin’s Temple before and they were unlikely to be the first. Although Hermione was wearing the famous wizard’s amulet and she was exceptionally brilliant herself, Thorfinn still held doubts.

Hermione, on the other hand, was determined. So determined, she hadn’t bathed in three days. 

Thorfinn closed the book in Hermione’s lap.

“Thorfinn Rowle!” she immediately scolded.

He pointed a finger under her nose. “Don’t test me, little witch.” Then, without further ado, he plucked her up from the bed like a small child and set her on her feet. “Grab your things, we’re going down to the spring.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Do we have to go outside?”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s been three days, sweetheart. You’re going to start to smell soon.”

Hermione had the decency to blush. “Is it really that bad?”

Thorfinn narrowed his eyes as he considered the best possible way to answer that without getting hexed. “You’re very single-minded.”

She grimaced. “Worse than bad, alright. Fetch the towels. I’ll bathe.” She gestured to the cupboard and Hermione pulled her dressing robe from her purse. She stripped down and shrugged the robe on. Thorfinn did the same. Two fluffy towels and a basket of bathing products in hand, the young couple made their way out of the hut and across the open field of grass.

The treeline was about fifty meters from the hut and another twenty meters in was the stream. Birds sang from the treetops. The sound of rushing water greeted them before they reached the stream itself. It was fairly wide and deep enough to come up to Hermione at mid-thigh. Despite the northern location, it was a warm spring day. The cool temperature of the water was a relief and Hermione and Thorfinn took their time to bathe.

Hermione felt a million times better once her hair was washed. She hadn’t even realized how much she needed a break. A wave of her wand had her hair spelled dry in an instance, the coils of hair ran loosely down her back and across her shoulders. She finished drying off her legs and wrapped the towel around her hips. Thorfinn pressed against her back. His hands slid across her smooth skin to cup her breasts.

She smiled. “What’re you doing?”

He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “What do you think I’m doing?” His nose nudged her curls aside as his lips moved to her neck. 

She leaned into his touch, even as her hands rose to his wrists and pulled at his hands. “We need to get back to research,” she commented sternly. His grip tightened on her breasts as he refused to be moved. Hermione arched involuntarily. Her bum pressed back into the hard bulge he pressed against her.

“I love it when you try and tell me what to do,” he growled into her ear.

She whined and shifted against him. “Thor…”

“If you had really wanted to get right back to research, you would have insisted on heading into the forest alone.” The rough pads of his thumbs brushed against her nipples.

Her lashes fluttered and her toes curled in the lush grass beneath her feet. “Is it… it’s May first?” The magic of the forest rose up around her, heightening their already aroused states. The magic of the Wiccan holiday surrounded them.

One of Thorfinn’s hands snaked down her flesh. The towel pooled at her feet. His fingers slid harshly against her clit before sinking deep into her. Hermione cried out in pleasure. Her knees buckled. Thorfinn wrapped his other arm around her waist to keep her from falling. “What do you think, Angel?” He slowly lowered her to the forest floor on her hands and knees. His chest pressed against her back.

“It’s…” Hermione gasped as his fingers curled inside her. “The spells.”

He growled in his ear. “Already taken care of.”

“You tricked me,” she protested weakly. Her head dropped forward and she moaned as Thorfinn picked up a slow, steady rhythm with his fingers. 

He kissed the back of her neck. “You’re not the only one who needs a break.”

“ _ Thorfinn _ ,” she begged. The natural power of Beltane danced along her skin. The forest was alive with sensual magic. How had she missed it before?

She almost cried when he pulled his fingers from her core. Her emotional reaction -- heightened by the powers of the magical day -- quickly disappeared as he entered her from behind.

Hermione moaned loudly. Thorfinn groaned into her neck. She’d heard whispers from other witches about the intensity of sex on Beltane, but she’d always thought it to be an exaggeration. Her fingers curled around strands of grass. Her eyes squeezed shut. Those silly witches had  _ under  _ exaggerated.

Magic sang through the wind in the trees. Birds called. The water rushed like the rushing sound in Hermione’s ears. It was overwhelming. She felt every little thing. Beltane heightened her senses and emotions to so great a level that she almost cried at simply being joined with him. It was pure bliss. 

Sex with Throfinn had always been far better than with any other wizard. Regardless of sexual prowess, their magic always clicked together in a special way. So special, that they had accidentally married each other during a frantic coupling several months back. In the back of Hermione’s mind, as Thorfinn drove into her and made her cry out in delight, she registered that the magic swelling around them was not all that different from the night they’d gotten married.

Magical forces were at work.

Hermione screamed and cried as she came. Her magical core swelled inside her chest so great that she could feel it pressing against her ribcage. If her eyes had been open, she would have seen the amulet, which swung beneath her body with each of Thorfinn’s thrusts, glow brightly. 

Thorfinn growled and shouted as he finished. The two of them collapsed onto the grass, sweaty and in need of another bath. Thorfinn nuzzled against the top of her head. He breathed in the scent of her hair. Tears had fallen down his cheeks the same as hers, but he was too tired to wipe them away. 

He opened his mouth with a dozen smartass comments on the tip of his tongue. Before he could utter any one of them, his eyes fluttered shut. Exhausted, the young couple fell into a peaceful slumber.

\/

_ Hermione wrung out the soaking wet cloths over the pool of the pond. The women gossiped about her as they went about their washing. Children laughed and played in the trees. Magical sparks and lights danced across the clearing in some form of a childish game.  _

_ Hermione dropped the last of the cloths into her basket. She raised it up onto her hip and smiled at the children. She would have one of her own soon enough. She could hardly wait. _

_ “My Lady!” a little boy cried as she passed by the children. He had dark curly hair and bright blue eyes. He smiled sweetly at her. “Allow me to carry the basket for you, my Lady.” _

_ Hermione smiled at his bright and eager expression. “That isn’t necessary, Fell.” _

_ “Please, my Lady. Our chief says you mustn’t push yourself.” _

_ “I can do my chores.” _

_ He pursed his lips. “Just to the village, my Lady.” _

_ Hermione sighed and looked heavenward. “Alright.” She reluctantly allowed the young boy to take her basket. “How does your mother manage you, Fell? You never take no for an answer.” _

_ Fell smiled charmingly. “She pawns me off onto the men. I’m more agreeable after a long day practicing with a sword and axe.” _

_ Hermione narrowed her eyes playfully. “I will remember that,” she warned. She felt the brush of the earth’s magic as they passed through the trees that were slowly beginning to bud with life once more. The magic of the forest was growing with each passing day that they drew closer to Imbolc.  _

_ Hermione could feel her magic swell within her. She felt the baby in her stomach kick. Hermione pressed a hand to her pregnant belly. It wasn’t long yet. She would give birth soon, she knew. They passed through the treeline and headed up the short incline. On the other side lay their fief. Smoke rose from the longhouses. A large fire burned at the centre of the village. A tall, blonde figure headed towards them. _

_ “Chief,” Fell addressed with a bow of his head. _

_ “Young Fell,” Thorfinn greeted. “Are you taking on the washing for your mother?” _

_ “I’m assisting my Lady in bringing her own back.” _

_ Thorfinn nodded once in approval. “I thank you for your kindness, boy. You can leave them with Della.” Fell bowed his head once more and left. _

_ Hermione sighed at him. “That isn’t necessary. I can still do my own chores.” _

_ “You shouldn’t need to,” Thorfinn argued. _

_ “I am the same as everyone here. I will take no special treatment.” _

_ He smiled and cupped her cheeks in his large, calloused hands. “I meant only that you are heavy with child now. The gods have blessed us, we should not take it for granted.” _

_ “Of course,” she replied gently.  _

_ Thorfinn leaned forward and pressed a long, loving kiss to her lips. “I can hardly wait.” _

_ She smiled and whispered, “Not long now. He’s almost here.” _

\/

Hermione laid out across the grass by the spring in the forest. The warm sun beat down on her, warming her naked skin. It was a beautiful, quiet moment in the chaos of research and general anxiety they’d been living in. 

Thorfinn’s lips explored along the curve of her legs. She smiled up at the blue sky. Her fingers tangled in his golden locks. 

She needed this. She needed these moments of silence and bliss. Spring would give way to summer in only two more weeks. Thorfinn and Hermione had been living at his family’s hut for over a month now. They had nearly exhausted their resources in the books they’d found there. They would need to move on soon to follow some leads.

Hermione was putting it off. They were safe there and she had grown quite fond of the little hut. There was little privacy and she still hated the lack of a bathroom, but there were long summer days and infinite time to make love by the stream. It was like the honeymoon they had never gotten.

She loved the surrounding nature the most. The magic of the forest felt like home. She understood why Thorfinn’s ancestors had wanted to stay. She never wanted to leave.

Hermione was fairly certain that Thorfinn was just waiting for her to give up on her current plan of attack. She wanted to find Merlin’s Temple. Said to be the home of all of Merlin’s magical knowledge, it was one of the most magically guarded secrets in the world. No one had ever set foot in it before. No one had ever found it before. Those facts had yet to sway Hermione away from the plan of finding it.

She had explained that most muggles believed Arthur to have lived during the time of the Roman Empire. They claimed evidence that he had either been a soldier or possibly a chief in Ireland, living as a Celt. She’d focused their research on the evidence the muggles had and was slowly narrowing down on possible locations.

They hadn’t found another depiction or even mention of Merlin’s Pendent. The Temple was their only hope at this point. Thorfinn was vocal in his thought it was a lost cause.

“Oi,” Thorfinn protested, “I am worshipping your body and you’re not even paying attention.”

Hermione laughed. “Sorry.” She stroked his hair. “Please continue. I promise to be an attentive student.”

“You’d bloody well better be,” he mumbled against her hip bone. He settled himself into the cradle of her hips and rested on his forearms. He pressed a kiss between her breasts. “Alright, tell me what’s keeping you from swooning in insatiable lust over my beautiful form.”

Hermione snorted in amusement. She raised her leg to curl around one of his. Her hand dragged lazily up the tanned skin of his back. “Have you figured out how we’re going to get to Ireland?”

He sighed but didn’t comment. He knew taking her out to the stream would only distract her for so long. “Portkey is out.” Hermione opened her mouth. “If you bloody well suggest it one more time,” he warned. She closed her mouth again. “I know you vetoed flying by broom,” he raised an eyebrow to give her a pointed look. Hermione pursed her lips and didn’t say anything, “which we will come back to. I thought I’d gotten you over that?”

She rolled her eyes. “You don’t just get over a fear of heights.”

“But at Hogwarts…” he protested in genuine confusion.

Hermione raised up on her elbows so she could see him better. She smiled at him sweetly. “I said I wanted to overcome my fears?” He shrugged and nodded. Hermione leaned forward until their noses were touching. “Thorfinn, my love… I wanted to get into your trousers.”

Thorfinn laughed in shock. His eyes lit up and his cheeks turned pink. “And here I was thinking I seduced you.” 

Hermione kissed his nose. “I let you believe it.” She laid back down and rested her head on her hands. Thorfinn pressed his cheek against her chest. He tentatively settled his weight against her, mindful not to crush her. 

“So, you never got over your fear?”

She hummed and ran her fingers through his hair again. “I got better at flying,” she offered. She smiled slyly and added, “I got really good at snogging.”

“From what I remember, you were really good to start.”

“Theo is very talented in that department.”

Thorfinn huffed. It was a source of annoyance for him that he wasn’t the first Slytherin Hermione had been with. Though she and Theo Nott had never been anything serious in their brief affair, they had retained a secret friendship until war broke out.

Hermione tried not to chuckle, but she knew he could feel it in the vibration of her body. “Are you jealous I slept with him first?”

“Of course not,” he replied immediately. He rose up on one elbow and gave her a serious look. “I don’t like sleeping with virgins.”

She wasn’t surprised. “I’d imagine not, considering most virgins would probably burst into hysterics the second they saw what you’re packing.”

Thorfinn smiled charmingly. “I love you.”

Hermione laughed. “And you like it too rough for a virgin. You’d traumatize the poor girl.”

He slid up so his face hovered over hers. He looked at her lovingly. “Thankfully, I’ve only got one witch to worry about for the rest of my life and she likes it rough.” He cupped her cheek and rubbed his thumb across her cheekbone. “That day in the library when you goaded me into teaching you to fly is one of my favourite Hogwarts memories.”

“Really? Mine is you fucking me on Professor Snape’s desk.”

Thorfinn burst into laughter.

\/

Hermione picked her way through the forest and towards the stream as her thoughts swirled in her mind. She’d gotten better at taking breaks after Beltane. It was easier to drift out of focus when she was suddenly consumed with thoughts of a pregnant version of herself. She shook her head. 

It wasn’t the first weird dream she’d had about herself and Thorfinn. Since putting the necklace on, she’d had a number of the strangest, most real feeling dreams. She knew it was only the proximity of Beltane that had her so nervous about the dream. It wasn’t prophetic. Prophecies didn’t exist. Harry and Voldemort’s inability to off one another was proof enough of that.

Hermione broke through the tree line and made it to the stream. She breathed in the scents of the forest. Crickets sounded. Birds sang. The property that Thorfinn had brought them to truly was beautiful. She closed her eyes and drank in the surrounding nature.

The sun fell away.

Hermione opened her eyes when her magical self-defence sent a shiver running down her spine. Clouds covered the bright spring sun. The forest had grown unnaturally dark in the absence of sunlight. A chilly breeze ruffled the tree branches. 

She glanced over her shoulder at the treeline. When Hermione turned back, she froze. The spring was gone. The clearing had disappeared entirely. Hermione was suddenly surrounded by trees from every angle. 

Her breath picked up as her panic rose. It was then that she noticed the birds had stopped singing. The only sound of nature that could be heard was the rustle of the breeze through the leaves. 

With a flick of her wrist, she drew her wand. Where the hell was she? She hadn’t travelled in any known magical way. She would have felt that. She was sure she would have.

A body slammed into her side. Hermione cried out. She hit the forest floor hard. Twigs snapped beneath her. Her wand fell away. 

Hermione slammed her hands against the person. “Thorfi-” Her cry was cut off by a cold hand. It was a man that had sickly pale skin and black eyes. His teeth were pointed like an animal’s. Hermione’s eyes widened. She screamed against his hand and struggled harder.

He hissed at her and jerked forward threateningly. Hermione stilled. “The Fay Queen approaches.”

Hermione’s alarm grew. 

The creature’s black nails lengthened. The sharp, jagged edges bit into her skin. Hermione squirmed. “Be still, vessel. Prepare for your ascension.” 

Hermione did not like the sound of that. She struggled against the creature’s overpowering weight. The second she freed her mouth, she screamed. His clawed hands wrapped around her throat. Hermione’s scream immediately cut off. She slapped at his arms. Her fingers clawed at his sleeves. 

A bright burst of blue light exploded from between them. The creature flew back. A loud  _ boom _ shook the earth as he crashed through the trunk of a tree. Wood splintered and sprayed across the forest. The top half of the tree tilted and fell to the forest floor with an almighty crash. Nothing moved. Not a single bird was disturbed. The wind blew through the treetops.

Hermione gasped for breath. Her hand clutched Merlin’s Pendant. It was still faintly glowing from between her fingers. She had to get the hell out of there. 

Hermione scrambled to her feet. Her heart pounded in her chest as she turned in a circle. It looked the same in every direction. She had no idea where she was. She was fairly certain she wasn’t even in the same forest by their hut. 

In her hand, the raw azurite pendant began to grow warm. She opened her hand and watched as the bluestone glowed again. A shot of blue light streaked through the forest. A path. Hermione’s laboured breath caught. Oh, thank Merlin -- literally. 

She glanced over her shoulder toward the destruction of the splintered and broken tree. The shadows lengthened from that end of the forest. Hermione could feel cold, insidious magic emanating from the darkness. Something was coming. The Fay Queen, she thought and immediately knew that she didn’t want to be there when the queen arrived. 

Hermione turned and quickly followed the path of blue light through the dense trees. Just as reached the treeline, a furious shriek echoed through the woods. Hermione gasped and glanced back. All she could see were trees and darkness. She took the final step and turned back around. 

The sun had returned. Birds sang. A bunny darted out from a bush and into the open grass. Hermione’s heart pounded like a drum in her chest. She let out a shaky breath and fought not to cry. She had no explanation for what had just happened. She had no clue what had attacked her or how it had drawn her into some sort of _other_ world. She knew nothing for certain, not anymore.

“Hermione!” 

She looked up at the sound of her husband’s call. Relief rushed through her as she saw his tall, blonde figure heading across the grass towards her. “Sweetheart?” he questioned when he got close enough to see how traumatized she looked. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Hermione threw herself into Thorfinn’s arms. She breathed in his scent. Her fingers curled into his robes. “We need to leave,” she explained, her voice strained as she continued to choke down her tears. “We can’t stay here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and let me know what you think!
> 
> xx


	5. Chapter Five

#  Chapter Five

_ The little boy was no older than three or four. He had curly blond hair and the most beautiful blue eyes. He laughed as he jumped and skipped through the field of babies breath and daisies. He raised his arms and spun around. Daisies sprang up from the earth and swirled around him. The flowers flew ten feet high, surrounded by sparks of magic.  _

_ He had wandered further from the fief than he was allowed. His mother was rather strict and didn’t like him wandering off. But Hermione was busy helping one of the women who had gone into labour late last night. She had rushed off with her potions and supplies and ordered the servants to keep an eye on him.  _

_ He smiled slyly to himself and waved a hand. The flowers and lights flew up and burst outward in an explosion of colour and petals. The servants were always easy to trick. He got around them easily. _

_ The little boy skipped across the grass as he danced to the music of his magic. It sang in the movement of the wind, the turn of the earth, and the vibrancy of the sun. The world hummed with magic. The blond-haired wizard paused and closed his eyes. He breathed in the magic of the world and stilled when he tasted a different sort of magic mixed with it.  _

_ The boy slowly blinked open his bright blue eyes. There was a curious glint in his gaze as he looked around the open field. What was that magic? It tasted like a mist -- wet, unknown, and foreboding.  _

_ His magic tingled in response to the unknown entity. He’d never felt magic like this before. His eyes scanned the field until he found it. There. A long white line cracked through the grass and the trees. It looked like someone had taken a knife and cut a jagged line through the world. The little boy stepped closer. He wondered what lay beyond that line. The Otherworld? Valhalla?  _

_ The strange misty magic seeped from the crack in the universe. It was growing stronger. His magic tingled in response. It was… familiar. Had he been to where this door led? Did he already know what awaited him on the other side? _

_ “Hello?” he called out, his voice not nearly as strong as his curiosity. _

_ He took another step closer. _

_ The crack widened. Long, pale fingers with dark talons for fingernails pushed through the opening. A wrinkled hand followed. The foreboding magic thickened in the air. The boy stumbled back.  _

_ The thing that crawled out of the fissure was bald and grey. Its ears were pointed and its teeth looked like an animal’s. It crawled forward on its hands and feet. When the creature opened its eyes, they were black.  _

_ The boy screamed.  _

_ Before he could turn to run, an arm wrapped protectively around his body. His mother raised her other hand and hissed an ancient spell. The creature screamed and seized on the bright green grass.  _

_ Hermione stepped around her son. She drew her shoulders back and stared down at the creature that shook at her feet. “Leave, Auberon, lest I strike again.”  _

_ The creature’s black eyes glared hatefully at the witch. “We grow stronger.” _

_ Hermione's jaw clenched. “Is that a threat?” _

_ “A warning…” His eyes flickered to the boy and his lips curled back to reveal his pointed teeth. He hissed and Hermione raised her hand in defence. The magic of the earth swirled up around her and her son.  _

_ The creature flinched and cried out in pain.  _

_ “Leave, Auberon. The earth's magic will cast you back soon enough.” _

_ “... For now,” he whispered. Auberon slipped back through the fissure and disappeared from their world. Hermione focused her magic on the crack. She spoke a long, complicated spell in an unknown language and the doorway disappeared altogether.  _

_ Hermione whirled around and dropped to her knees. “What were you thinking?” she demanded. _

_ Her son sobbed. Tears rolled down his plump, pink cheeks. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. _

_ Hermione grasped his arms and stared seriously into his eyes. Their frantic magic swirled around them. “What have I said? You mustn't run off! It's dangerous! You must promise me never to do so again.” She shook him lightly when he didn't answer. “Promise me!” _

_ “I promise, mama. I promise!” _

_ The fear slowly slipped from Hermione's shoulders and she sagged in relief. She gently touched her son's cheek and pressed a loving kiss to his forehead. “Oh, my love. You must be careful. Never seek out Avalon again.” She looked deeply into his bright blue eyes. “The faeries wish to lure you into their world. But we must never give in to them.” She raised her other hand and wiped his tears away. He stared solemnly at her. “We must stay strong. Together, they can't harm us.” _

_ He sniffed and rubbed his sleeve against his nose. “Together?” _

_ “Always and forever. You'll stand with me, won't you, my love?” _

_ “Always and forever, mama.” _

\/

“Fay? Like faeries?” he clarified for the seventh time since Hermione had finally explained what had happened in the woods. She had refused to say anything about it until they had relocated far from the forest. 

Thorfinn had apparated them to Holyhead where they had immediately caught a ferry across the waters to Ireland. He had a few properties in Belfast from when he’d played for their team. He had needed to switch locations often to throw off the press. One of the flats he had, he’d never gotten around to using before the war started up. They ended up there after several hours of anxious travelling. 

Their anxieties had not lessened with Hermione’s explanation. Thorfinn sat at the end of the big bed he’d used to furnish his studio flat. He ran a hand over his face. “Faeries haven’t interacted with our world -- muggle or magical -- in centuries.”

“Not necessarily,” Hermione immediately contradicted as she paced before him. “Pixies and brownies are technically fay. The difference is that they use the same magic that we do.”

“And the banished fay don’t?” 

“The original faeries are rumoured to use Old Magic,” she explained.

“Like Merlin?”

Hermione nodded. “Merlin learnt the magic from his visits to Avalon, or so the history books claim. He closed off the door to the Otherworld, but it’s never been clearly stated why.”

Thorfinn’s eyes bulged as he let out a short breath. “Well, if these are what faeries are like, I think we know why.”

She paused in her pacing to cross her arms as she shivered. She could still feel the creature’s hot breath on her face as it spoke about its queen. “Do they have queens?”

Thorfinn shrugged. “I don’t know, dollface. What I’m more concerned about is how they found us.”

“And how long it’ll take them to find us again.”

There was a long silence in which they both worried over her statement.

“The amulet was supposed to protect you,” Thorfinn whispered.

“It did… sort of.” Hermione’s fingers wrapped around the azurite. She began pacing again, before the bed where Thorfinn sat. “It wasn’t strong enough, though. Merlin used Old Magic,” Hermione thought aloud. “If this amulet was made with that sort of magic and the fay all use that same sort of magic…”

“Then maybe it doesn’t affect the fay the same as us,” he said, finishing her thought.

“Yeah…” She licked her lips nervously. “We need to find the Temple of Merlin.”

They stared at each other and their questions filled the room despite their silence. How had the door to Avalon opened again? Why were they targeting Hermione? What exactly was this amulet and why had Merlin created it? 

“Do you think it’s the amulet?” Hermione whispered fearfully.

Thorfinn stood. He gently pulled his witch into his arms. “I don’t know,” he told her honestly. “But we’re going to figure it out. I’m not going anywhere… not without you.” Hermione sighed and sank into his arms. She bit her lip to stop the tears. 

\/

Hermione’s hair had reached an all-new level of craziness. The state of her hair only reflected half of how frantic the young witch had become. She refused to leave the flat. She only ever researched, ate, or slept. Thorfinn was just happy that she even bothered to eat most days.

This wasn’t the same franticness from when she’d been reading all the books about Merlin in their little hut. This wasn’t like when she had OWLs. Hermione was scared. She had thrown up her wards around their flat and hunkered down for the end of days. 

Thorfinn was worried about her. Her anxiety over the situation was growing stronger every day. She was making herself sick. Two weeks into their stay at the flat, she’d been so sick she hadn’t been able to get out of bed. Thorfinn had worried about her all day. She couldn’t keep anything down. When she hadn’t been throwing up, she’d been sleeping.

Even two days later, he could see the dark circles under her eyes. She was at his small kitchen table, obsessively reading through the copy of the  _ Prophet _ he’d managed to procure for them. Voldemort’s forces had recently made an attack on the Wizengamot. It was finally, fully purged of any supporters of the Order.

What Hermione was most concerned with, was the picture of Death Eaters on the cover. Dickie was skulking in the back. The witch nervously tapped her fingers against her lips. Voldemort had a faerie -- because there was nothing else that Dickie could be. Where had he found Dickie? Was Voldemort responsible for opening the door? 

Hermione began to rock in her seat. She thought back to the dream she’d had of that little boy. Her little boy. Not hers, she reminded herself sternly. Not her boy. Just  _ a _ boy. The magic the boy had cast had been so powerful. Instinctively, Hermione knew it had been Old Magic. The same magic that her dream counterpart had used.

Perhaps the use of Old Magic had drawn out the fay to attack the boy? If that were true then maybe Voldemort had done the same?

She shook her head. “No, no… that’s a dream,” she mumbled to herself. “Dreams aren’t facts.” Regardless of her half murmured words, she couldn’t stop thinking about her dreams. Since the attack, she’d dreamed nearly every night about the little boy. When she closed her eyes, she could see his smile and hear his laughter. 

Hermione was mildly concerned that she was going crazy. 

Beneath the fold of the cover page for the  _ Prophet _ were two big pictures of Thorfinn and herself. They were wanted, dead or alive. No question about who put that bounty out on their heads. Voldemort wanted them dead. She wondered how he had figured out Thorfinn was still alive. They hadn’t been seen by any witches or wizards, not that they knew of at least. 

The paper was pulled from her fingers. 

“Enough,” Thorfinn declared. “I can’t watch this anymore. You’re taking a Dreamless Sleep and then you’re going to bed.”

Hermione jumped to her feet. “No!”

“Hermione…”

She skirted around the table, putting it between them. “What if it’s important?”

“They’re dreams, sweetheart. You don’t even believe in prophecy.”

“But they’re about Old Magic!” she protested. Her body ached and her head pounded. She felt nauseous all the time. A part of her mind was aware that she was delirious. She’d obviously caught some kind of bug. 

“We dream about the things we think about,” Thorfinn explained softly. He knew Hermione was well aware of this fact. He also knew that she was working on a handful of hours of sleep over the past three days. “Your mind is trying to solve the problem, love. You need to rest.”

Tears sprang to her brown eyes. “I can’t sleep.”

He slowly came around the table and rested his hand on her shoulders. “The potion will help.”

“The boy,” she whispered.

“I know.” He pulled her into his embrace. “I know, angel. It’s okay. A nice long sleep and it’ll be better. I’ll research while you rest.”

She pulled back a fraction and looked up. “Really?”

“Of course.”

Hermione smiled. “I love you.”

He kissed her forehead. “I love you too.

\/

_ “Mama! Mama, look!” The little boy held out the seed in his hands. He closed his eyes and focused his magic. The seed sprouted and grew. Hermione watched as her son used his magic to create a beautiful flower with a rainbow of coloured petals.  _

_ “It’s beautiful, darling,” she praised. “How did you learn that?” _

_ He held the flower out to her and she accepted it with a kiss to his cheek. “It spoke to me.” _

_ “Did it?” she asked, not sounding all that surprised. _

_ He nodded his head. “Do you believe me, mama?” _

_ “Why, in the name of the gods, would I not?” she asked with genuine confusion. Hermione set the flower aside with her abandoned weavings. She pulled her son into her lap and wrapped her arms around him. _

_ “Lyting and Aesir said that I was lying. They said that magic doesn’t sing, it doesn’t call.” _

_ Hermione ran her thumb across her son’s soft cheek. “And do you believe them?” _

_ He thought about the question seriously. His eyebrows drew together and his lips pursed. He shook his head. “I can feel it,” he told her. _

_ Hermione leaned close. “So can I,” she whispered. _

_ His eyes widened. “Really?” _

_ She nodded. “The earth is full of magic. I can hear her.” His blue eyes widened. “Her magic sings, just like you said. She whispers to us. The others don’t hear it. They don’t experience magic the way we do.” _

_ “Why?” _

_ Hermione smiled softly. She pressed a kiss to her son’s head. “That’s a long story and one you will not hear until you are much older, my love. Perhaps it’s time we headed back.” _

_ He immediately jumped to his feet. “I don’t want to go back yet!” _

_ “Sweetheart…” she warned. Hermione moved to take his hands and he raced out of her reach. His eyes sparkled with mischief. Hermione couldn’t help but smile at the look in his eyes, so much like his father. He edged further away as she slowly rose to her feet. “And just where do you think you’re going, little prince?”  _

_ Her son turned and ran. Hermione gave chase and raced across the green grass. The little boy laughed as she ran after him. He hopped across round stones and jumped into the clear water. Water splashed in all directions.  _

_ Hermione gasped and pulled back. Her skirt was drenched. “You little hellion!” she laughed. “Just wait until I get you!”  _

_ He laughed and jumped away just before her hands grasped him. His magic flew him into the air and he soared up the side of the mountain. The jagged rockside was wet and slippery. Long streams of water rushed down the dark surface to create a powerful waterfall. The sound of it filled the air and covered Hermione’s calls for him to be careful.  _

_ The little boy climbed up the rock. He slipped behind a stream of water and into a cave. The earth called to him. Her song was stronger here. It rang louder than the rushing of the water just behind him.  _

_ This place was special -- sacred.  _

_ The little boy slowly turned his head. His eyes found the invisible ones of the sleeping Hermione as she watched the dream unfold. His blue eyes glowed with power. “He’s found you. Run!” _

\/

“We have to go!” she insisted frantically as she pulled her shoes on.

Thorfinn was jumping on one foot as he tried to get his other pant leg on. “Because of a dream?”

“There isn’t time to explain!” she yelled. Hermione waved her wand and collected all of their things into her bag. “We need to get the hell out of here.”

“How would he have even found us?” he argued as he buttoned up his jeans. “Between your wards and my lack of a Dark Mark, it’d be pretty damn hard.”

Hermione shot her husband a hard look. “Dickie.”

Thorfinn froze. “Shit.” If Dickie really was fae, then he would be able to find Hermione like the other creature had. Neither of them had thought of that.

“Where are we going?” he immediately asked. 

“Merlin’s Temple,” was all she said before she grasped his arm. She turned on the spot and the two of them disapparated. 

They landed in a field of grass. The sun was just glinting over the rockface before them. Surging down the side of the cliff was a waterfall. Greenery grew along the rocks. Tree roots sprouted out from every crack and crevice. Thorfinn turned and could see trees and more green in the distance. There was a ravine that was created by the waterfall in the distance.

“Where the hell are we?” he wondered aloud.

“Powerscourt Waterfall, Ireland,” Hermione responded as she made her way towards the waterfall. “Also, the entrance to Merlin’s Temple.” She’d seen pictures of this place while researching projects in muggle primary. It had been years ago, but a part of her had immediately identified the location when she saw it in her dream.

Thorfinn’s eyebrows raised. “I - wait - what?” She kept going. “Hermione!” he called. He raced after her and grabbed her wrist. She reluctantly turned back around. “Alright, I know you’ve got this big, beautiful brain and you’re always about a million steps ahead of everyone, but I really need you to step back and explain it to me.”

Hermione took a deep, calming breath. “I had another dream. The boy went into a cave behind the waterfall. The air, the magic there… Thor, it was so powerful. If Merlin were going to make a temple, it would be  _ there _ .”

He narrowed his eyes. “You do see the leap in logic there, right?”

She tilted her head as she gave a sigh of exasperation. “It’s like Hogwarts,” she explained. “Certain places in the world are more closely linked to the earth’s magic.” By the look on Thorfinn’s face, she knew he didn’t understand. “Remember what the school felt like? All that swirling magic. You could feel it beneath your feet. In the stones of the castle or while you walked across the grass. You could taste it in the air.”

Thorfinn’s face grew alarmed. “Hermione, love, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Hermione’s mouth fell open in shock. She blinked. She’d never actually spoken about the magic in the air around Hogwarts. She’d always just assumed everyone felt it.

“What made you think  _ he’d _ found us?” Thorfinn questioned for a change of topic. 

“The dream,” she said again. “The boy looked at me and he said You-Know-Who had found us.”

He shook his head. “I thought your dreams took place at different times in the past?”

“They do. It did. I mean, the boy looked at  _ me _ . Not the dream version of me. He was talking to me.”

A shiver ran down Thorfinn’s spine. “I thought these were just dreams.”

Hermione looked up at him hopelessly. “I don’t know, babe. Maybe it’s the amulet?”

He let out a long breath. “Merlin, I hope it is.” He nodded to the waterfall. “How high up is it?”

“Just a bit of a climb.” She held out her hand. “Come on.” 

With a heavy sigh, Thorfinn took her hand and together they walked closer to the waterfall. 

“So,” he began awkwardly, “you  _ feel _ magic?”

Hermione glanced at him sidelong. “I thought everyone could.”

“I can feel when I cast a spell. Or the effects of a potion or a spell on me.”

She shook her head. “That’s not what I mean. It’s like…” She thought back to her dream self. “It’s like the magic sings to me. Like it’s telling me what it wants, what it needs -- to be charmed or enchanted.”

They reached the rocks and Thorfinn boosted her up the first ledge. He pulled himself up beside her. “Is that why you’re so quick with magic?” he wondered aloud. He spotted her as she made her way up the rockface. 

“I mean, I’m not  _ that _ quick. I spent most of my school years in the library studying.”

Thorfinn nodded in agreement. “Yes, but if I remember correctly, you spent most of your time not on assignments or homework, but by researching the practices of the wizarding world. Religion, food, basic cultural things.”

Hermione pulled herself up onto the next ledge, aided by Thorfinn’s hands on her hips. She huffed out a breath and turned to watch him easily scale the rock up to where she was. “Can you blame me? I’m a muggle-born. I didn’t know or understand anything. And it’s not like Hogwarts has a muggle-born class to help us integrate. I needed to know what I was getting into.”

Thorfinn pulled himself up beside her. The sun had risen higher above them, highlighting the park in all its splendour. “Alright, but what about later? When we were dating, you helped me with my studies. You had to read up on the theory, but the actual practice of it just came naturally for you.”

Hermione shrugged. “We all have our strengths.”

Thorfinn rolled his eyes. “Can you stop being modest for a second, angel? I’ve never heard someone describe magic the way you did. I’ve never read an explanation of it like that. And it started before you put that amulet on.” He pointed to the azurite stone that glittered prettily between her breasts.

Hermione pursed her lips. “Muggles have this thing called synesthesia. Sometimes, people perceive things differently from others. There are accounts of people actually seeing colours when they hear or read numbers. Or two of their senses become interchanged. Sometimes people can see colours that don’t exist -- not to our eye, at least.”

“You think it’s something like that?”

Hermione shrugged. “What other explanation do you have?”

He rubbed his forehead tiredly. “That I married a troublesome witch.”

She smiled widely and pressed a kiss to his lips. “You love me.”

“Merlin help me, I do.” 

They continued up the cliffside. It took them longer than it would have if they’d flown, but in their rush to leave the flat, they had left behind Thorfinn’s broom. This was a fact the wizard had groaned about as he pulled himself up to another ledge. The rock grew even more slippery the closer they got to the water. Moss covered the stones and threatened to make them fall.

“Here,” Hermione whispered. 

Thorfinn paused, his hands were already raised and searching for a handhold to pull him to the next ledge. He turned his head to his wife and cocked an eyebrow. She was staring past the rushing water. He couldn’t see anything. 

“There isn’t anything there?”

She turned and smiled at him. She held out her hand and waited for him to give in. Hermione guided him along the slippery ledge. Thorfinn’s eyes widened as, for a single moment, it looked like she passed  _ through _ the wall of rock. Her hand pulled him through the rock face too. He closed his eyes, fully expecting to slam against a hard wall. When nothing halted his progress, Thorfinn peeked open a single eye. He opened the other. 

They were in a cave. The water rushed down behind them creating a wall of water at their backs. The cave was fairly small. If this was Merlin’s Temple, it wasn’t that big.

“It’s different,” Hermione whispered. She walked towards the cave’s wall. Pictures had been chiselled into the stone. Paint could still be seen in the images of flowers and a large oak tree. Hermione’s fingers touched the depiction of a woman covered in stars. “These weren’t here in the dream.”

Thorfinn drew closer to the back wall where the biggest carving was displayed. He waved his wand and the cave was lit with bluebell flames. His eyes widened. “Is that…?”

Hermione turned and gasped. She was at his side in an instant. They both stared at the engraving. “It is,” she confirmed with a breathless whisper. 

The crest of the Pendragons.

Hermione’s eyes flickered across the dragon emblem. There was a line down the centre. “It’s a door.” She pointed to the line she’d spotted. The moment her hand grew close, she felt the magic. It enveloped her in a welcoming embrace. Instinctively, she pressed her hand against the door.

“No!” Thorfinn shouted, but it was too late.

Her hand touched the crest of the Pendragons. The carving glowed gold. The doors pushed inward with a rush of magic. Thorfinn and Hermione stood at the entrance to the temple, both of them frozen in shock.

“Bloody hell,” Thorfinn breathed. 

Hermione smiled widely. “I told you I’d find it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) The next chapter is wiiiiild. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> xx


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a brief religious discussion in this chapter (though I wouldn't really call it all that religious). It does discuss the Virgin Mary and actual translations of "maiden" to "virgin." If you are religious and this upsets you, I apologize. But the origins of these words I speak about have been, in fact, proven to be true. I personally believe the conversation is handled respectfully and I certainly mean no offence to anyone's beliefs.

#  Chapter Six

Hermione’s shoes squeaked against the smooth marble floors. The ceiling was so high that it disappeared into the shadows. Magical crystals were embedded into the rough stone walls and glowed, lighting the floor of the cave. On each side of the hall were shelves of books, scrolls, and magical objects. The end of each bookcase held another magically glowing crystal.

“It’s amazing,” Hermione breathed. She stopped and almost turned down one of the many aisles of ancient-looking books when Thorfinn drew her attention.

“What’s that?” he pointed to a moving object at the end of the main hall. It glowed faintly. Intrigued, they headed in that direction. 

The object that had caught their attention was a tall, flowing wall of water. The wall shimmered and glowed with an ethereal light. To the left of the wall was a round table. Hermione’s breath caught. It wasn’t exactly like what she’d imagined. Instead of a simple circular table, there was a hole cut out of the centre like a donut. The wood was carved intricately with designs and runes so ancient Hermione wasn’t entirely sure what they meant. Chairs circled the famous table. It looked almost like the knights had only just walked away and would return at any moment.

“Holy shit,” Hermione whispered.

“Isn’t that… muggle?” 

Hermione turned at Thorfinn’s question. He had looked to the right where a statue was situated against the far wall. It was a woman with a baby in her arms. Hermione blinked in astonishment at the depiction of the woman breastfeeding her child. 

“The Virgin Mary?” she wondered aloud. A depiction of the Virgin Mary was rather startling, not only because it was a part of muggle religion, but because Christianity rose in popularity  _ after  _ the fall of Camelot. “How…?” Her eyes widened. “We aren’t the first ones to find this place!”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely certain,” Hermione confirmed. “Someone had to have brought that statue in after Merlin was born and died. We don’t know exactly when Merlin was around but it had to have been at least four hundred years  _ before _ the death of Christ.”

“The muggle god, right?” Thorfinn asked for clarification.

“No, he was the son of God. Jesus was considered a messiah… a man with great magical power and…” Her eyebrows drew together in confusion. “Aspects of his story are similar to Merlin’s. Merlin was supposed to be part-child to a god or an otherworldly creature. He had magic beyond anything the world had seen before.” Hermione stared at the depiction of the Virgin Mary and her child. “I’d never even thought about it before.”

Thorfinn turned away from the muggle statue. His eyes drew back to the magical waterfall before them. It was still glowing as if a light was being cast through the water from the other side. “So, we’ve got the Round Table, and we’ve got the Virgin Mary. What the hell is this thing, then?”

The two of them turned back to the wall of water. The flowing liquid fell into a small pool at its base, no wider than a foot in each direction. The wall was about two meters in height. The soft sound of trickling water filled the air. 

Hermione took a step forward to inspect the artifact closely. A bright blue light shone from the waterfall. Thorfinn immediately wrapped his arm around Hermione’s waist and hauled her back. They stilled as an image wavered in the water.

A man appeared on the rippling surface. He was tall and broad-shouldered. His hair was blond and curly, pulled back into a low ponytail. He had a neat beard and bright blue eyes. He looked startling like Thorfinn, but both immediately knew that it wasn’t him. He wore medieval attire, with stockings and colourful clothes. Around his neck was Merlin’s Pendant.

“Is this… Merlin?” Thorfinn wondered aloud. Hermione didn’t even hear him. Her eyes were fixated on the man before her. The boy. It was the boy from her dreams. She knew it. She could feel it in her bones.

She opened her mouth to tell Thorfinn when the figure spoke. “Hello, Thorfinn and Hermione.”

They both tensed. 

Thorfinn bent down so he could whisper in her ear. “Since when was Merlin a seer?”

“I’m not a seer,” the man immediately claimed. Hermione and Thorfinn shared an uneasy look. “I wish I could see your faces again. You always look the same and even have the same names. I know you have questions, I will do my best to answer them. 

“There are some -- not many, but some -- that are born with a destiny. I, Merlin, am one of those people. If I am born it is always with a purpose, and it is always the same purpose. I am what some call a warlock -- the most powerful level a magical being can grow to be. But more than that, I am born of equal amounts of good and evil. The dark and the light.”

Hermione’s head tilted in curiosity. “Isn’t that a faerie?”

“Not unlike a faerie, as I’m sure you’ve noted.” Merlin continued. It was obvious he was speaking from some sort of magical recording. He couldn’t hear them, but he’d very accurately anticipated their questions. “Faeries are made up of equal portions of light and dark magic. Muggles say faeries are the offspring of angels and demons and I have often thought the theory to be close to the truth -- if such things, in fact, exist.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow, intrigued by Merlin’s skepticism when he had a statue of the Virgin Mary only several feet away.

“Morgan Le Fey is a faerie -- she is not just of their kind but leads them,” the great wizard continued. “Their magic is toxic to humans. They feed on both mortals and wizarding kind alike. I have fought back Morgan’s forces time and time again. It is my destiny. She is my responsibility.  _ No one else _ can stop her.” A shiver ran down each of their spines at his dark, commanding tone. Thorfinn’s arm tightened around Hermione’s waist. “If you’re here now, it means the queen is stirring once more and I will return.”

“The queen,” Hermione breathed. Her fingers curled around Thorfinn’s wrist. These were the answers they had been searching for. Her heart raced inside her chest.

“But where I am born with a destiny,” Merlin’s voice said, his recording unaware of Hermione’s words, “there are even less out there who are born  _ destined _ . And you two,” the man smiled, his expression warm, “you two are destined. You always have been and you always will. And you are always the same -- your faces, your voices, and even your names.” He sounded wistful as he spoke. “The two of you are destined for one another, beyond even that of soulmates.

“There are magics in this world greater than any of us can understand -- even myself,” he added with a rueful smile. “I am not ashamed to admit that the two of you are beyond my understanding. There are some stories that cannot be told, they must be lived.” His smile softened and his eyes grew distant as if lost in a memory. “There is one thing about the two of you I do know for certain. I can only be brought into this world by both of you. My parents.”

“Wait --  _ what _ ?” Thorfinn reeled back, taking Hermione with him in his shock. Hermione’s eyes widened at the confirmation of what she had feared the moment she saw Merlin’s image.

“If you’re here,” Merlin went on, “the veil between our world and Morgan’s is already thinning. Things will get much worse before they can get better. Unfortunately, I cannot protect this world as a baby. But there is still much you can do in my place -- as you have done before.”

Merlin’s bright blue eyes met his father’s as if he could truly see the man standing there. “Thorfinn, that’s the name your mother gave you. But your Roman name has lasted longer. Artorius. The people later changed it to the Christian form -- Arthur. Now known as King Arthur.” Merlin paused to let that revelation sink in. “You can try to find Excalibur. It is the only offensive magic that will work against the fay. In order to find it though, you must follow in the footsteps of your past. Excalibur cannot be given -- its own magic demands that it is  _ earned. _ ”

Thorfinn released a shuddering breath. “No pressure,” he whispered.

“And mother…” Merlin’s eyes flickered down to Hermione. His smile grew. “My sweet, loving mother. No stories of you survive. You were insistent and I have done my best to twist the stories of Camelot as best I can. No one knows the truth. You’ve always hated the idea of destiny. Every life you live, you’ve lived in protest to what the realms would rather have you be.” 

Merlin gestured with his arm. “There are books here filled with Old Magic. Take them with you. They are charmed to be protected. Eventually, once I am born and old enough, I will return them here… for the next time.”

He took a deep breath and smiled warmly, the same smile he’d gotten from his mother. “Please don’t be frightened about what’s to come. I know you’re both shocked and confused. You are not born with the memories of your past lives. But if you’ve found your way here, it means I’ve already been conceived.” Hermione’s eyes widened. She felt Thorfinn tense. 

“My magic will enable you -- mother -- to see memories of the times the two of you have lived before. If you wish to see more, you must find my amulet. I’ve imbued it with my magic and protective charms. Both of you will be drawn to it. It won’t harm you in any way. But only I can remove it.” Hermione’s fingers curled around the azurite stone.

“The amulet will protect you, but it isn’t infallible. The faeries will be able to break through it. If you have any hope of holding them off, you’ll need to use the wardings found in the books here.” He pointed to a bookcase by the Virgin Mary. “There you will find the texts you need. This place is protected. The faeries will never be able to enter it. Don’t leave until you can create the proper wards to keep yourselves safe.” His eyes stared seriously into her brown ones. “This is imperative.

“In the meantime, remember that you are never alone. Trust in the ‘Knights of the Round Table’ as they are now called. They live on in other names and forms. They don’t know you, but they know of each other. If you find one, they will be able to contact the others and they  _ will do so.  _ They are sworn at birth through blood and magic to fight for you, father. They are all descendants of your original brethren and they can be trusted. I’ve no doubt about that.” He took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging when he released it.

“I know you’re worried, but don’t be. I’ve fought the Queen of the Fay many times. I will defeat her once again. And I will protect you -- both of you.” A grin spread across her face. “At this point, it’s all a bit dull.” He winked then and Hermione choked on a gasp. “Until we meet again. Blessed be.”

The image faded away and the blue light dulled until it vanished. 

Silence filled the temple.

Hermione’s fingers were clutching Thorfinn’s wrist so tightly that they had turned white. “I think I need to sit down,” she whispered.

Thorfinn nodded once, though he hadn’t really heard her. His gaze was fixated on the falling water. 

“Thor?”

“What?” He shook his head. He looked down and found her big brown eyes looking up at him. “Oh, right.” His free arm slipped to the backs of her knees and he swung her up into his arms. Hermione let out a startled noise of protest. Thorfinn was by the Round Table in two large steps. He kicked the leg of a chair, sliding the seat back before settling himself down in it. He pulled Hermione into his embrace. The witch immediately curled into him.

She pressed her mouth into his shoulder. “He… he can’t have been serious,” she mumbled.

“He sounded very serious.” Thorfinn’s hands smoothed up and down her back.

Hermione pulled back to look at him, her eyes wide with panic. “We can’t be -- it’s not… He called you Arthur!  _ King Arthur _ .”

Thorfinn ran a hand down his face and groaned. “And we thought having the Order and the Dark Lord after us was bad. This is -- this is  _ fucked up _ .” He dropped his hand and settled a tired expression on his face. “At least some of our questions about faeries have been answered.”

Hermione’s hand settled on her stomach as Merlin’s words suddenly exploded in her mind like one of the Weasley twins’ fireworks. “I’m pregnant.”

Thorfinn tensed. He wanted to deny it but… that technically meant arguing with Merlin and he didn’t think he was up for that. He looked down at her hand resting on her flat stomach. He thought back to how sick she’d been of late. Morning sickness, he realized. Excessive fatigue as well. 

Hermione’s eyes widened. “Beltane. We had sex on  _ Beltane _ .”

He shook his head. “I cast the spells.”

“But would that even matter? Merlin’s powerful, I’d imagine he’d need to be conceived on a magically powerful day. He’ll probably be born on a witch’s day as well.” She looked up at the temple’s high ceiling as she counted in her head. “Imbolc.” Her hands shook. “Approximately ten months from Beltane is the Wiccan festival for spring.”

Thorfinn pulled her into his chest again. “Deep breaths, sweetheart.”

Hermione followed his instructions. In through her nose and out through her mouth. Her eyes were pinned to the statue of the Virgin Mary on the other side of the room. “If… if the three of us are the only ones who can enter the Temple then… do you think Merlin brought in the Virgin Mary statue?”

Thorfinn turned his head to look at the tall stonework. His fingers ran through her hair in soft, comforting strokes. “He must have. Can’t see why?”

Her brows drew together. “He mentioned… he said other times. He’s born every time the veil thins. He was wearing clothes that looked almost medieval. So… so that wasn’t an image from the first time he was around.” She slowly pulled away to sit up straight as the puzzle pieces finally fell into place. “What if… what if it’s not the Virgin Mary… it’s Merlin and me?”

Thorfinn narrowed his eyes at the statue. “You mean, it’s not supposed to be the Virgin Mary or you are the Virgin Mary?” Their gazes met, eyes wide.

“Both?”

Thorfinn let out a deep breath through his mouth. “I need a drink."

“It would make sense,” she continued, ignoring him. “Merlin and Jesus had similar stories. And if Merlin is born to defeat the fay… well, I’d imagine that sort of thing would be surrounded by war and magic and… everything that’s happening right now.” She turned to meet her husband’s bright blue eyes. The same eyes he would pass on to their son. “Such momentous events wouldn’t be easily forgotten. Camelot is centuries gone and we still remember it. Is it so crazy to think that Merlin’s life might have inspired other stories?”

“You’re not a virgin,” he argued, hoping to inject some sense back into this slowly derailing conversation.

Hermione shrugged. “Neither was Mary. The original scripture calls her a ‘maiden.’ When it was translated to Latin, the word for ‘maiden’ also meant ‘virgin.’ It was still a miracle birth, just not in the sense of immaculate conception. Instead, it was because of God.”

“I thought I was Merlin’s father?” Thorfinn shook his head. He didn’t understand muggle religions much at all.

“You are, but Merlin also said he did his best to warp the stories. Maybe not just the stories of Camelot.” Hermione turned back to look at the statue. “We’ve already identified my magic is weird and by relation, so is Merlin’s. If he twists the story so that God is the reason Jesus is the messiah, no one looks at Mary as the culprit.”

“Once again, hiding the truth,” Thorfinn concluded. “We might never know your secrets.”

Hermione’s fingers wrapped around the azurite hanging below her chest. “Maybe, maybe not.” The dreams would continue coming. She’d have years of them, at least, before Merlin was old enough to pull the necklace from her neck. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well! Now we're all caught up to where I'm at on ffn. The updates will be slower from here on out. I'm focusing on Marked One, Child Bride, and As It Should Be. But I'm going to get enough done to update all my stories before my sister arrives to stay with us for a month. I haven't seen her in two years, so it'll be nice! Thanks for reading! xx


	7. Chapter Seven

#  Chapter Seven

\/

_ “Sh…” Hermione soothed the squabbling baby as she gently bounced him in her arms. She hummed a lullaby for her son and slowly danced around the room. The morning light streamed through the castle’s windows. Spring had come as it always did with a magical ritual on Imbolc. This year’s festivities had been quite the celebration with the birth of the fief’s heir. _

_ Heavy footsteps sounded down the hall and Hermione smiled. She turned as her husband entered the room covered in dirt and mud from his travels. He froze at the threshold. His blue eyes widened at the sight of the small bundle wrapped in white cloth that was snuggled into his wife’s embrace. _

_ “You had him.” _

_ Hermione’s eyes teared at his reverent tone. “Would you like to meet your son, my lord?” _

_ Thorfinn immediately moved into the room. He stopped just short of touching either of them, his dirt-covered hands hung in the air. “I’m filthy.” _

_ “You’re always covered in dirt from your travels.” _

_ Thorfinn quirked a grin at that. It was certainly true. “Aye, but if I get this dirt on the quilt your mother made for the baby, she’ll cut my head off herself.” _

_ Hermione smiled widely. “Why husband, are you scared of my mother?” _

_ He raised his eyebrows. “About as scared of her as I am a hungry dragon.” Hermione laughed and the baby cooed in response to his mother’s delight. Thorfinn looked down at the baby that had his father’s big blue eyes. He looked pained as if it was taking everything in him not to reach out and touch the babe. “I’ll call for a house-elf to prepare you a bath,” his wife said. _

_ Thorfinn smiled gratefully. “How are you? Was it difficult?” _

_ “It happened during the ritual. All the wives were in a tizzy about such good fortune. The entire fief is whispering about how strong of a wizard he’ll likely be.” _

_ He chuckled. “If only they knew. Will we name him Merlin?” _

_ Hermione wrinkled her nose. “You know how I feel about that.” He nodded. Her eyes watered as she looked down at the innocent face of her son. “He was already born with a great burden on his shoulders. Calling him Merlin will only add to that. Our world is already drowning in turmoil. The fay have terrified the muggles into reinstating the witch burnings and our people are slowly being picked off one by one.” Her voice dropped to a whisper as she said, “I can feel our world dying.” _

_ Thorfinn grasped her shoulders. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Things will change. Our world has a much greater chance now that our son has been born.” _

_ She looked up at him with furrowed brows. “Nothing's changed. He’s a baby. He isn’t a weapon.” _

_ “I know, my love. But he  _ is _ the one who can stop the fay. Maybe not now, but one day. Now that he is born, you are less vulnerable. We can begin this new chapter in our lives and soon we will work together to stop the fay.” _

_ “And the burnings,” Hermione added. “Innocents are dying. Muggles, witches, and wizards alike. We’re all suffering from this rampant fear.” She cuddled her baby closer as if the warmth of her embrace alone could protect him from the flames of the pyre. “He won’t be raised as a weapon, but he will be raised to help make a difference.” _

_ Thorfinn raised a hand to cup her face. His thumb stroked the apple of her cheek as he smiled fondly. “You wish to name him for your father, don’t you?” _

_ Hermione’s eyes teared. “He died protecting those children and they burned him for it. Our world is filled with hate and anger. He wanted to teach them to know better and our son…” She looked deep into her husband’s eyes. “He will be so powerful. He can make the difference my father couldn’t. Not with a sword and fury, but with courage and words.” _

_ Thorfinn nodded. “Of course he will, my love. He is, after all,  _ your _ son.” He stepped around her so he could peer over her shoulder at their son. “Godric Gryffindor, the world will know your name, my son.” _

\/

Merlin’s Temple had an entire chamber of rooms for them. Hermione spent most of her time in the massive, luxurious bed as she read through the collection of books. As much as she wanted to dive into the more interesting texts on magical teleportation and advanced ritual practices, she knew she needed to be smart. The only way they were going to leave that cave was if she knew how to cover their tracks and keep them hidden. 

Thorfinn had found the training room and had immediately picked up an axe and sword. She watched him spar against the dummies when she needed a break from research. It was startling just how simple he made the muggle style of combat look. It came naturally to him. She knew he’d received no training previously. He just knew how to move with a sword. Hermione doubted it would really benefit them unless they found Excalibur, but it kept Thorfinn busy, which was more important. 

Hermione rubbed her eyes and stretched out like a cat after a long nap. She needed to move around. She’d been in bed for far too long. 

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and hissed as her bare feet touched the cool marble floor. Her hand touched her slowly protruding belly as she gained her balance. They’d been hiding in the Temple for two months. Her belly had popped two weeks prior and she’d gone from looking like she was gaining weight to being pregnant. 

It still gave each of them pause when they saw her belly. Hermione tried not to think about it. She reasoned it would all feel a million times less terrifying when she knew how to protect her baby. That was her hope, at least.

Hermione grabbed the quilt off the end of the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders as she made her way out of the bedroom. She immediately caught a whiff of something cooking and headed in the direction of the kitchen. The kitchen was nothing more than a cauldron over a fire pit, surrounded by lots of counter space and a massive dining table. They spelled all their dishes clean and the food was from a magical storeroom that kept everything inside fresh for as long as needed. Hermione didn’t really like to think about just how old the food was that they were eating.

“Babe?”

Thorfinn turned at the sound of her address. He stood by the cauldron in the middle of the kitchen. A stew cooked over a low fire. “Hey, angel. Taking a break?”

She nodded and rubbed her eyes. “I fell asleep for a bit.”

“Any dreams?” Now that they had confirmation that she was really dreaming about their past lives, it’d become a constant topic of conversation.

Hermione headed across the kitchen and wrapped her arms around his middle. Thorfinn held her tightly. “Godric Gryffindor,” she mumbled into his jumper.

“Excuse me?”

“He was one of Merlin’s past lives. So… our son.”

Thorfinn slowly shook his head. “How on earth did I end up in Slytherin if my son was  _ Godric bloody Gryffindor _ ?” 

Hermione laughed. “Yeah, I’m sure he will have a few choice words about that.”

Thorfinn grinned. He stepped back and gestured to the cauldron. “Are you up for food? It’s almost ready.” Her stomach had finally settled last week. Her morning sickness had tempered and she’d finally been able to keep down her meals. Instead of sickness, she was now suffering from cravings.

“I want a cheeseburger.” 

Thorfinn narrowed his eyes. “I can’t make muggle food.”

She pouted. “When we get out of here, I’m taking you for a burger. For the best burger in the world. It’s going to blow your mind.”

He smiled and nodded his head. “Sure, sweetheart. Pull up a chair, I’ll grab you a bowl to eat.” Hermione grabbed a chair in the middle of the long table, more than large enough for twenty people. “How goes the studying?” He asked as he dished up two bowls of stew. 

Hermione hummed and shrugged. “Well enough. I think I’m nearly there,” she revealed tentatively. “I just hate how it’s all defensive. There’s nothing in the texts about actively fighting faeries.”

“My sword will do that.”

“Excalibur is lost,” she pointed out rudely.

Thorfinn raised an eyebrow at her tone. “The weapons here are for the knights. They aren’t as effective as Excalibur, but they are laced with iron.”

“Which is lethal to faeries,” Hermione said with a nod. She shot him an apologetic look. “I hate being cooped up here. I miss the sun.” She wrapped her arms around her protruding belly. 

“Me too," he agreed, even though he knew she was taking it far worse than she was. Hermione was not handling being cooped up well at all. Thorfinn was fairly certain it had more to do with her distance from the natural world than anything else. While the magic of the temple was exhilarating at first and she had found it fascinating -- that enjoyment had quickly waned. 

“We should start thinking about where we’re going to go when we leave.”

Thorfinn raised his eyebrows in undisguised shock. “Really?” Hermione had been extremely reticent about bringing up the topic of them leaving the cave. She hadn’t wanted to get his hopes up that it would come sooner rather than later. 

Hermione was attempting to self teach herself an entirely new form of magic -- or rather an ancient form of magic. She had no teachers, no fellow students, and no one to tell her she was doing it right. Her anxiety that this was life and death was enough to make her read her texts multiple times over before she deemed herself ready to attempt anything. 

Thorfinn, bless him, had been extremely patient. He understood just how important this was and with every passing week as he watched Hermione’s middle expand, it only grew more and more important in his mind. As he swung his swords and threw his axe, he thought of his child growing inside Hermione. He wanted them to be safe. He needed them to be safe. 

“We have dozens of properties across Europe, but I think we should stay in Ireland,” he told her, having thought about it constantly over the last two months. He set a bowl of food in front of her and took the seat to her right. 

Hermione lifted her wooden spoon and stirred the stew Thorfinn had made. “Ireland? Really?”

“Well, it’s close enough to England that it won’t be a bother to find the knights.”

“You think they’ll be in England?” she questioned. Whereas Hermione had been learning ancient magic, Thorfinn had been reading some of the scrolls on the Knights of the Round Table.

Thorfinn sighed as he stared at his food. “I think… I think it makes sense that any remaining knights will have ended up in pure-blood families, and all the British ones that remain are situated in England.” 

Hermione’s brows drew together. “Isn’t that a bit of a leap in logic?”

He raised an eyebrow, not unaware of the major leaps she’d made to get them to the Temple of Merlin. “Merlin said that the knights are born into it. There’re scrolls that explain the ritual to bind a wizard to the cause. They do it at birth. It’s a type of practice that would continue through a long history in a family.”

“Like pure-bloods,” Hermione finished.

“Exactly.”

“But most of the pure-bloods that I know of are purists. Would they really follow a leader born from a muggle-born? What am I talking about?” She shook her head. “They’re currently following a half-snake man that’s the prodigy of a squib and a muggle, of course they would.”

Thorfinn laughed despite himself. “Will our son be leading them?”

Hermione’s brows drew together as she thought about it. “He’ll have magic beyond reason. It makes sense that at some point he’ll, at the very least, make momentous changes in the Wizarding World. He certainly has done in the past.” That statement left a heavy weight in the room. “And you’re King Arthur, so reason dictates that you’ll also lead.”

Thorfinn made a sound of distress at that. “Oh, hell bloody no. I’m not a king. You said it yourself, I wasn’t actually a king in the past.”

“No… from what I can understand of my dreams, you were a Viking leader that settled in Ireland. You were a chief though. You were a leader of a magical and muggle community that probably grew quite large. It must have even spanned countries for the stories to be so prevalent in England.” Thorfinn ran a hand through his loose blonde locks, obviously upset at Hermione’s ruminations. “I’m not saying you need to lead Magical Britain. But it’s a very real possibility that your knights might expect it of you.”

He made a face. “Can I just… live out my life making love to my wife and having a Quidditch team full of beautiful babies?”

Hermione smiled. “I love that idea.”

He wriggled his eyebrows. “Plan B?”

She laughed. “Sure.” Hermione ate another spoonful of her stew. She hummed contently. “Do you have any ideas on how we’ll identify your knights?”

Thorfinn frowned and nodded. “Just one. There’s this mark…” Thorfinn stood and left the kitchen. When he returned, he was holding a scroll. “It’s a rune of some kind. I can’t figure it out.” He handed her the paper. “I’ve seen it before and it’s on a lot of the scrolls about the knights.”

Hermione unfurled the parchment and scanned the aged calligraphy. At the bottom of the page was a symbol that had been sealed into the paper with wax. She nodded as she pointed to it. “It’s not a rune. It’s the symbol of the Knights Templar.”

Thorfinn looked shocked at her immediate identification. He scolded himself, of  _ course _ his intelligent wife knew what it was. “Who are they?”

“A secret order of knights that fought in the Holy Wars during the middle ages. They’re said to have connections to secret societies throughout history. They’ve disappeared, but many muggle conspiracy theorists claim their order is still alive and well.”

He frowned at the symbol pressed into the wax. It looked rather like a cross, with the lines larges at the end. It was inked in blood red. It made sense, he supposed, since he was fairly certain there was a muggle religion that used the cross as its symbol. “They’re muggles?”

Hermione shrugged. “They’re known in the muggle world, yes. But so is King Arthur. You certainly aren’t a muggle.”

He nodded once, conceding the fact. “So, a portion of them were muggles and remained so after the fall of Camelot. Camelot… which was supposed to be a perfect fusion of muggle and magic,” he reasoned slowly. He glanced at her to make sure he was remembering this correctly and she nodded. “Do you think that the Knights Templar might be the muggle continuation of the Knights of the Round Table?”

Hermione smiled at him. “Have you ever heard of the Holy Grail?”

Thorfinn’s head shot up, his eyebrows raised. “It was a quest,” he immediately explained. “King Arthur travelled into Avalon to acquire the cup and save his people who were dying from an illness. I read about it in one of the scrolls.”

Hermione wasn’t surprised by the story. She handed back the scroll. “The Knights Templar are most famous for their association with having discovered the Holy Grail. Apparently, it made them rich. They all disappeared and treasure hunters have been after their spoils for centuries now.”

“They’re my knights,” he stated with bold assurance.

“I’d be very surprised if they weren’t.” She narrowed her eyes on him. “You said you’d seen the symbol before. Where?”

“On the shoulder of a friend of mine. It looked like it’d been branded into his skin.”

Hermione studied him for a long moment. “A pure-blood.” It wasn’t a guess.

He nodded. “There are a few Death Eaters who never took the mark. It wasn’t broadcasted, but it was something I noticed. And now…” He gestured with the scroll in his hand. “I’ve studied these. I know everything that entails getting this mark on your body and the consequences. If you’re inducted into this order, you can’t join any other. You can’t be branded with the Dark Mark or any other sort of muggle or magical branding belonging to a different group.”

“How many are there?”

He shrugged and shook his head. “People don’t get the mark on them for a number of reasons. You’ve got to earn it. Either that or it’s forced on you as a punishment -- like Draco Malfoy. I only know of one wizard who doesn’t have the mark and also bears this insignia.”

“And that’s all we need. He’ll know the others, won’t he?”

Thorfinn scratched his beard while he thought about it. “Merlin certainly thought so.”

When he didn’t say anything else, Hermione asked, “Who is it?”

He made a face. “Flint.”

“ _ Marcus Flint _ ?” Thorfinn shrugged and Hermione rolled her eyes as she groaned. “Babe, Marcus Flint cannot be a Knight of the Round Table. He’s as dumb as a box of rocks.”

Thorfinn chuckled but didn’t argue. He’d been on the same Quidditch team as Marcus for years. They’d joined the Ballycastle Bats together. “Yeah, he’s not the brightest wand in the shop, but he’s big and he’s strong. He’s got a mean duellers hand and he also happens to be a decent friend of mine.” She huffed at him. “I trust him and I know he’s got this insignia on him. He’s the one we should contact first.”

Hermione rolled her eyes again. “Fine. Flint, it is. Ugh.” She ate her food dispassionately and Thorfinn chuckled again. She pouted as she stirred her stew. “There isn’t going to be a single Gryffindor among them, is there?”

Thorfinn’s chuckles grew to laughter.

Hermione’s sigh was world-weary. 

\/

Exiting the cave was the most terrifying thing that either of them had ever done. Neither said anything, but both were expecting an army waiting for them on the other side. Either the Order, the Death Eaters, or the fay. Someone had to be waiting for them.

But when they exited their little safe haven, the cave was blessedly empty. Hermione glanced at the engravings on the walls as they exited. The woman made of stars was her, she now knew. It was still startling to her, even two months later. 

Armed with a sword in his hand and a battle axe strapped to his back, Hermione followed Thorfinn past the secret door and onto the wet ledge by the waterfall. It was pouring outside and both of them were immediately drenched. 

Hermione clutched her purse filled with priceless books and artifacts from the Temple, worried about damaging them even though she knew they were spelled by Merlin to remain unharmed. “Can you apparate in this?” she loudly asked over the noise of both the rain and waterfall.

Thorfinn looked around, his jaw tense. He nodded once. He wrapped his free arm around her waist and pulled her in tight. Hermione’s fingers curled into his wet shirt. Their baby was pressed protectively between them. Thorfinn turned on the spot. 

Hermione buried her face in Thorfinn’s chest and groaned as they reappeared. Apparition while pregnant was horrible. The rain was still coming down on them, but was so light it was nearly a mist. This was a completely different rain from the storm they’d just left behind.

Hermione pulled back and looked around. They were in the middle of a property enclosed by high white walls and overflowing with plants on every side. Behind them was a wrought iron gate. Along the pebbled path was a two-story white house with a dark roof that matched the black panelling around the square windows. Big red flowers curled up the white surface, climbing like ivy along the outer walls at the front door. Branching off of the right of the building was a domed glass room that looked like a magical conservatory. Many magical households had them for growing magical plants throughout the year.

“We need to set the wards.”

Hermione nodded. She crouched down and pressed her hand flat against the wet grass. Her eyes fluttered shut as the earth’s magic rose up to greet her in a loving embrace. Hermione breathed deeply. 

“The magic here is powerful,” she told him and Thorfinn’s shoulders sagged in relief. Hermione whispered a long, intricate spell in a language that her husband couldn’t follow. He felt the wave of magic that thrummed out across the earth. His eyes widened as he watched Hermione work.

He helped her to stand when she tried to get back up. Hermione turned to the gate that served as the only entrance onto the property. A muggle street lay just beyond. Hermione’s hands grasped the iron bars and she whispered more spells under her breath. No one would be able to enter their land without permission. Anyone who tried would be compelled to leave. No one would find it suspicious, but would instead think that they’re giving the occupants of the house the privacy they are naturally due. 

She moved onto the white walls that surrounded their property. No one would be able to penetrate the walls. The earth’s magic fueled the power of the wards so that the fay wouldn’t be able to wriggle through it. The wards would counter any wizarding spells and enchantments. This land would be unplottable and completely protected. 

Hermione stepped back. She pressed a hand to her belly and turned back to her husband, backdropped by the beautiful view of their new home: Roselands House. She smiled warmly. “We’re safe.”

“Thank the gods,” he murmured and Hermione laughed. Both had stopped using Merlin’s name as an epitaph when they’d learned about their relation to him. It was disturbing to use the name they’d once given their son as a form of expletive -- especially during sex. 

Thorfinn held out his hand. “Come on, witch. Let’s get you dry and fill you with a nice cuppa, yeah?”

Hermione hummed appreciatively. “Yes, please.” 

The house Thorfinn had chosen was in the eastern part of Ireland. It was a rather old area with cobblestone paths and friendly muggles. His family had stopped using it decades back when the muggles had begun to take over the area. 

Thorfinn ducked under the wooden awning and opened the door for Hermione to enter first. He set his sword against the wall beside the door as he shut it after them. Hermione waved her wand and cast drying spells over both of them before they ruined the dusty wood floors. 

There was an L shaped stairwell that led up to the second floor right in front of them. It took up the main entrance hall which only held archways and doorways into other rooms. Hermione explored through the archway to the left where she found a rather dated-looking parlour room. 

The double door archway directly to the right of the front door had a dining room with medieval-looking point-backed dining chairs. Through a single archway beside that one was the kitchen which connected back into the dining room. The kitchen had an old, gas-powered stove and an icebox rather than a refrigerator. From the kitchen alone, Hermione could tell that it was a magical household. 

Beside the L-shaped counters, there was a set of double French doors in a matching colour to the black window panelling around the house. Through the doors was the glass conservatory that looked completely overrun with magical plants. 

Light filtered in through the glass windows and Hermione smiled as she soaked up even the tiniest bit of sun through the cloudy sky. “Oh, I forgot what the real world felt like.”

Thorfinn wrapped an arm around her body and placed his hand across her belly. He kissed the top of her head. “I like this place. It feels wholesome.”

Hermione shivered in her husband’s hold. The baby’s magic swelled in time with hers at the contact of Thorfinn’s hand on her stomach. She loved it when he did that. Hermione leaned back into his embrace. A moment of peace swept over both of them.

Being outside of the cave was freeing. Not only did it mean they were no longer caged, but it meant they were powerful enough to protect themselves. Together, they had the power to protect their baby. The anxiety of the past three months fell away. Everything was coming together.

Hermione turned and wrapped her arms around Thorfinn’s neck. She pressed a kiss to his chin, the only part of his face she could reach. “Make love to me.”

Thorfinn smiled charmingly and softly kissed her mouth. “I think we ought to clean the bed of doxies first.”

She rolled her eyes. “Who needs a bed?” She pointed her wand at the tiled floor and spelled it clean. Thorfinn laughed, shocked and not at all upset. She pressed close to him, pushing her bump and her far more ample breasts into him. “You’re not the only one who can be impressive in the kitchen.”

“Oh, angel, I don’t know about that.” His hands reached down to palm her arse and his teeth nipped at her jaw. “I think you’d better prove me wrong.”

Hermione moaned. She turned her head and caught his lips in a searing kiss. Her fingers dove into his hair and curled amongst the thick blond locks. His mouth opened and he let himself get swept up in her passionate embrace. 

Thorfinn’s fingers tugged at her robes and pulled the wizarding fabric from her shoulders. The loose fitted clothes were the only things that fit her after her jeans stopped buttoning. That also meant her knickers had stopped fitting and Thorfinn enjoyed taking advantage of the fact that his witch was always bare to him.

The wizarding robes fell to the floor, leaving Hermione naked save for her socks and runners. Not one to be outdone, Hermione immediately began pulling at Thorfinn’s flannel shirt. 

Thorfinn’s hands cupped her bare breasts. His fingers pinched her nipples and she gasped. “Fuck, Thor.” She’d been especially sensitive since she’d gotten pregnant and he thrilled in the slow torture of playing with her breasts. 

He dropped to his knees before she could get his shirt off and sucked one of her nipples into his mouth. Hermione let out a cry. Her fingers curled into the fabric at his back and pulled frantically. He let go of her only long enough to let her pull his shirt over his head. His arms came around her hips and he lifted her up as he stood back up. 

Hermione gasped and groaned as she wrapped her arms around his head. “No…” she moaned. “I wanted to suck you off.”

Thorfinn groaned at the thought. “Later, angel.” He placed her on the edge of the countertop and snogged her hotly. As he distracted her with his tongue, he undid his muggle jeans and shucked them down his muscular thighs. Her on the countertop had her at the perfect height and he pulled her closer to the edge before he slid inside of her.

Hermione involuntarily threw her head back and it slammed against the cupboard. “Fuck!”

Thorfinn cupped the back of her head with his hand as he thrust into her again. “You good, baby?”

Hermione moaned and hooked her legs around his hips. “Faster,” she demanded breathlessly. Her runners bit into his arse cheek as he found a rhythm. He thrust into her at a fast, unrelenting pace -- exactly how he knew his witch liked it.

Hermione’s nails bit into the skin at his shoulders. She threw her head back again as she cried out. Thorfinn’s hand saved her from a concussion. Her thighs tightened around him and her eyes squeezed shut. She came with a scream that had him howling and quickly following her. 

The silence of the house was deafening in the aftermath of their coupling. Only their heavy breathing could be heard in the stillness of their new home.

“Well, that’s one way to use a kitchen,” Thorfinn quipped, still out of breath.

“Told you I was impressive.” 

Thorfinn’s laughter echoed through their home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays! Tonight's the fifth night of Hanukkah and my fifth day uploading in a row. I have no clue what I'm posting tomorrow 🤣 
> 
> Thanks for reading! xx


End file.
